Already A Dead Man

by Saddletramp

(Inspired by the song Already A Dead Man by Jason Pritchett) Pre Laramie Series. Jess Harper drifts into town for a good meal and good night's sleep. But his world gets turned upside down when he is forced into a gunfight with a reputation seeking youth, bush wacked by a stranger, then stalked, captured, and tortured by a vengeful opponent.

ALREADY A DEAD MAN

CHAPTER ONE - THE SAGA BEGINS

The Eagle's cry pierced the cool evening stillness. Sad, deep blue eyes looked to the sky, watching as the majestic creature soared and circled before diving to the river before him. It momentarily disappeared before resurfacing, using its impressive wings to rise like a Phoenix in a cascade of water, a wiggling trout clutched in its talons. He watched as it flew effortlessly out of sight. For a moment, Jess envied the eagle, wishing he could sprout wings and follow suit, because he was not free to go where he pleased.

He poked at the campfire, bringing the embers back to life and building up a warming red glow. It was mid-summer and he really didn't need the fire for warmth, more for the comfort of familiar things. Sighing, he broke the stick he held in his hand and tossed it in with the other kindling. He walked over to check on his horse, Traveler, scratching the animal behind the ears and apologizing for spending another night in the open air. He'd promised both Traveler and himself a night in town. They were both road weary. Jess wanted a good night's rest for his horse with hay and grain and a roof overhead. Similarly, all he'd wanted was a good meal, a hot bath, and a soft bed where he could sleep in peace.

Ever vigilant, he scanned the area for any sign of a posse or anyone else who might be on his trail. He wasn't wanted anywhere – at least he thought he wasn't wanted - but old flyers kept popping up, making his life difficult at best. Then again, he never knew for sure who was related to someone he had shot. If it hadn't been for that kid – that damn kid – he'd be sleeping under a roof tonight. He'd shot in self-defense. The whole town had witnessed it, but that didn't matter. He'd pulled a gun in town and the sheriff had invited him to get on his horse and not look back.

Jess sighed again, patted his horse's neck and returned to sit by the fire. He was still upset over the shooting. Shooting anyone bothered him. He avoided it whenever possible and regretted every one of them, regardless of the situation. But it seemed his reputation as a fast gun was stuck to him like glue and his future was irrevocably intertwined with his past. Today's shooting had been another example of the reputation which dogged his heels. A shooting that didn't need to have taken place; another gunfight he couldn't avoid, and another town who only wanted to see his backside leaving. He shook his head.

The sign outside of town had read Statesville, Population 300. He was looking forward to a hot bath and his mouth watered at the thought of a home cooked meal. Even with all his years on the trail, he'd never learned to cook anything satisfying and the meal meant a lot to him.

He'd ridden up to the bar first; figuring a drink would settle the dust in his throat before he ate dinner. Part of him longed for that hot bath before eating, while another part of him argued that the hot bath before bed would allow him to sleep better. He couldn't decide and therefore the drink was a nice passage of time while he mulled over his choices.

It was midafternoon and the city's streets were fairly quiet. A few wagons crowded the area in front of the General Store while only a few other horses occupied the hitching rail he tied Traveler to. The bar was dark and cool, a welcome relief from the summer sun and its accompanying heat. Pausing at the door to let his eyes adjust to the darkness, he noted that the few occupants within the establishment were involved in a card game. They had barely even looked up when he entered and had just as quickly decided he was of no interest to them as they went back to their game. There was only one other cowboy at the bar, so Jess took a spot at the other end and ordered his whiskey. That's where he'd been, minding his own business, sipping a drink at the bar; enjoying his first taste of whiskey in quite a long time – and then the KID had come in.

He'd known the moment the kid walked into the bar that there would be trouble. Hoping to avoid the forthcoming fight, he did his best to ignore the youth whose steely eyes looked over the bar crowd. Through the mirror behind the bar, he'd seen the kid enter the place like he owned it. He was slender and lean but not cowhand "fit"; tall, with unruly blonde hair escaping the confines of his high-priced Stetson. Jess knew the kind – the son of someone important – a man-child taking advantage of his family's status to get what he wanted with contempt for everyone else. From the corner of his eye, Jess estimated the youth was barely 18 – if that. Old enough to wear a gun, but too inexperienced to realize he wasn't yet man enough to handle the responsibility. Yet he moved with assurance, even arrogance. Behind the arrogance the boy exhibited there was an aura that Jess recognized – a burning anger that itched to be relieved; the need to prove himself a man. The boy's eyes roamed over the few patrons before his focus locked onto Jess. Jess groaned inwardly, a cold knot forming in the pit of his stomach. He could guess what was about to happen and he wanted no part of it.

Looking at the boy was like seeing a reflection of himself. He knew he'd been that kid with the same anger and the same fire burning him up. He recognized the need to strike out at someone – anyone - to try to ease that all-consuming need. For Jess, the war had come and gone, and years had passed, quelling his own anger at the world. He just wanted to be left alone. He still sought the Bannisters, the men who had wiped out his family in a single night. But otherwise, he kept to himself and tried to stay out of trouble. He'd had enough of that. But the kid wasn't about to leave him alone.

The boy had sidled up to Jess, crowding him like there was only elbow to elbow room at the bar, even though the nearest cowboy was a good ten feet away. It was then Jess realized there was something "off" about the boy. He wasn't sure what had clued him in, perhaps the look in his eyes or arrogant sneer on his face. But he immediately realized there was something else hidden in that arrogance and hostility; it was pure evil.

The boy slapped his hand on the counter, demanding a whiskey. The bartender shook his head. "You ain't getting no drinks in here, Jamie. . . . . ." Before the sentence was finished, Jamie had reached across the bar and grabbed the bartender by the shirt front. His hand twisted in the man's shirt, choking him.

"You give me that drink, NOW." Jamie demanded.

"But your Pa." the bartender stuttered. "I got orders."

Jamie twisted the shirt tighter, cutting off the man's breathing; watching with a twisted smile of enjoyment as his face turned red.

"Screw the old man's orders. Give me a drink - or else."

Shaking, the man nodded in the affirmative and Jamie let him go; watching as the man poured his drink with shaking hands.

Jamie turned on Jess then. "You got a problem?" He challenged.

Jess shrugged his shoulders. "I got no interest in your affairs."

Eyeing Jess boldly, the boy swallowed his drink in one gulp, slamming his glass on the bar, demanding another one.

It had taken every ounce of restraint for Jess to ignore the boy bullying the bartender. Jamie needed a swift back handed blow to put him in his place. But Jess knew if he intervened, it would escalate into a fight and possibly a gunfight he wouldn't be able to avoid. However, if the boy hadn't let the bartender go when he did, Jess would have felt it necessary to step in.

Jess figured he'd finish his drink and then leave, avoiding any further chance for confrontation. But the kid was full of himself, brazen enough to jostle Jess' elbow as he raised his hand to take a sip, causing its contents to spill down over Jess' arm. Jess stepped back, automatically brushing the excess fluid from his clothing, calmly accepting the towel offered by the bartender. He purposely kept his movements slow and deliberate.

Jess didn't need to look at the boy to know he had turned, hand raised over his firearm, eagerly anticipating the gunman's draw. But Jess just brushed himself off, stepped back up to the bar and quietly handed the towel back to the bartender. He could feel the boy's disappointment and then his anger deepening.

"ain't you gonna get mad, mister? Taunted the boy.

Jess shook his head. "Na," he said lifting his glass once more. "Accidents happen."

His very calmness fueled the boy's anger.

"Ya 'fraid of me?" challenged the youth.

Jess didn't look at him, merely answering in his deep, gravelly voice. "No, just not in the mood for a fight."

The boy actually trembled with anticipation, unwilling to leave Jess alone.

"You're Harper." The boy challenged, still standing with hand held over his gun. "I seen you ride into town. I been waiting for an opportunity like this; someone worth challenging. I done beat all the punks for miles around. I need a real challenge. You know I got the edge on ya. You're afraid. You're afraid I'm faster than you; that I'll kill you – and I will too!" His voice was raising in a fevered pitch as he fed on his own deluded self-importance. "I'm the fastest there is and I intend to prove it by killing you." The boy was fairly salivating as he worked himself into a frenzy. "I've heard all about you, Harper." He said, once again, this time stepping forward and pushing Jess who gave no ground, doing his best to ignore the taunts. "I've heard all about how fast you are, but I'm faster and I'm going to prove it."

Both elbows on the bar, Jess turned his head to look at him, noting the gun fighting stance before turning back to his drink. "You got it wrong." Jess said quietly; so quietly that the bartender could barely heard him. "I'm afraid I'll kill you and get run outta town. I was kinda lookin' forward to good meal and a good night's sleep."

This rattled the boy yet only succeeded in rousing his anger even more.

"I want you Harper. I want to show everyone that I'm faster than you."

Jess watched as the last of the whiskey swirled around the bottom of his glass. "Go home, boy. I didn't come here for no gunfight. Go home. Live to fight another day."

But the boy would have none of it, his anticipation and belligerence reaching a frenzied peak. Jess could ignore Jamie's words because it was clear the boy was out of his league. Maybe he was fast and maybe he wasn't, but his entire attitude projected inexperience. Oh sure, the boy had probably practiced night and day to become fast, but Jess was pretty sure the boy had never been in a fair gunfight; had always staged things to his advantage and never looked down the barrel of an experienced opponent's gun. Jess had already decided he didn't want to be responsible for the boy's initiation into manhood. Nor did he wish to be the boy's executioner because he knew he was far faster than the mean mouthed boy who confronted him. The bar patrons scattered, sensing there would be only one conclusion to the altercation, yet Jess held his temper, striving to continue ignoring the boy's ever-increasing tirade. Agitated beyond reason, the boy struck the glass from Jess's hand. The sound of it shattering echoed in the bar's stillness.

Jess had turned then, being very careful to keep his gun hand away from his gun. His voice was low and gravelly as he spoke. "I ain't gonna fight ya, boy. No need for anyone to die here today." He'd said as he passed by the boy and headed for the bar door.

"You're the only one who is going to die today!" shouted the younger man.

Jess' walk was smooth and unhurried but every nerve was on end; trying to end the confrontation but knowing there would only be one outcome. He could only hope that the boy wouldn't shoot him in the back. He didn't even flinch when a bullet struck the doorjamb next to him. He only paused a second before stepping out onto the sidewalk and down the stairs into the street.

Jess knew the boy's body shook with rage as he continued to exit the building. He purposely kept his gun hand in sight as he untied Traveler from the hitching post and mounted. He picked up his reins in his right hand, another sign he couldn't or wouldn't draw his weapon, and purposefully turned his horse away from the angry youth, calmly riding away from the saloon.

Jess' world grew uncannily quiet. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. His breathing slowed. He was aware of every breath the crowd took, the change in the atmosphere, every sound and every movement around him including the boy's rising ire. He knew it was coming and he wouldn't be able to avoid it. By walking away, he had shamed the boy in front of the whole town. The only way for Jamie to save face now was to make his stand against the gunslinger he had called out. If need be, the boy would now shoot him in the back, heedless of the legal consequences. The thought crossed Jess' mind that either the boy was entirely delusional, or he belonged to an influential family who ruled the town and knew he could do as he pleased.

Jess instinctively knew exactly when the boy would draw and fire. His internal countdown had already begun.

THREE.

He automatically switched hands on the reins.

TWO.

He cautiously slipped the thong from his colt's hammer.

ONE.

In one smooth move he straightened, pulled his gun, spun his horse around and fired. Two shots sounded as one. Inexperienced and fueled by anger, Jamie had drawn and shot quickly, his shot wide. But Jess' shot was true; the boy lay in the street.

Every instinct within Jess told him to turn tail and run, knowing the law would be after him faster than the blink of an eye. He fought the very instincts which had kept him alive all these years. He'd had enough. He hadn't done anything wrong and wasn't going to run. He only debated himself for a moment, deciding whether to turn and flee or ride back to face the sheriff. He chose the latter, knowing he hadn't killed the boy, having aimed for a non-vital area. His experience with the law was less than stellar; he'd been jailed far more than he cared to admit - mostly because of the way he wore his gun and the reputation that preceded him.

But there had been a time, in a town now far away, where he had found himself on the right side of the law. A former gunslinger turned Sheriff had taken him under his wing, taught him and shown him how it was possible to redeem his life. Under that Sheriff's tutelage, he had learned the law and how it should be implemented; how a good lawman could make the difference in the outcome of a situation. It was that training which had taught him how to control his anger somewhat and to assess the situation; read people and the crowd in general. He'd been given hope that there was a chance for a better life for himself and he was banking on that knowledge and hope as he rode back towards the saloon.

The crowd parted as he approached. Someone was holding the boy who still lay in the street, now clutching his bleeding shoulder. His anger had not abated as he stared up at the gunman.

"Look what you did to me!" the boy yelled. "You shot my gun arm! I'll kill you Harper." The boy spat out. "So help me, one day I'll find you and I'll kill you."

"Go home, boy. Grow up and do something useful. Being a gunfighter ain't no way of life. There's always someone trying to prove they are better or faster – just like you just done. The next one you brace might not mind killing a kid."

The sheriff made his way to the front of the crowd. Jess eyed him cautiously. The man was considerably older than himself, yet still fit for his age. He had a round face with a short mustache over his lip and graying hair. But it was his eyes that caught Jess' attention. There was no condemnation in the Sheriff's eyes, only a strange sense of understanding. He looked Jess up and down.

"You want me?" Jess asked, prepared for the worst.

The sheriff shook his head. "No. Heard the whole thing before I even got here. I saw you try to ride away and saw him draw first; try to shoot you in the back. I know who you are. Saw you when you first hit town – but I could tell you weren't spoilin' for no fight. You could have killed the boy easy – but you didn't. If I were you though, I'd be hittin' the trail before word gets back out to the Sullivan Ranch. I'm betting by the time Jamie here gets done at the doc's, the story won't even come close to the truth. It'd be better for the town, me and you if you rode on. I'll try to keep the old man in check, but he's a hard one; set in his own ways yet he'll listen to reason. He thinks the sun rises and sets on that boy but I'm hoping I can convince him Jamie was in the wrong this time. We all know he's out of control. I've got to make Sullivan realize he needs to take a firmer hand on Jamie before he kills again or gets killed. Until I can talk to the old man, you'd best be watching your back."

Jess nodded his understanding. He took one more look at Jamie, once again seeing something deep and evil behind the baby-faced boy's eyes. He backed his horse a few steps before turning and cantering out of town.

CHAPTER TWO - ECHOES OF THE PAST

Jess shook himself from his revelry. He was bone tired but tonight would be another night he'd sleep half awake, his gun close at hand. He didn't really expect any trouble tonight. The shot had been a clean one and the boy would live. But the sheriff's words weighed heavily upon him. There would be no rest for him until he was well out of range of the boy's overbearing father.

He knew the man's kind. He didn't have to know the family's name to know what to expect. This time it was Sullivan, but it could just as well as been Martin or Smith or Townsend. The sheriff's description told him everything he needed to know. The old man would be a town founder, someone who had come west and carved himself a vast ranching heritage in an inhospitable land. He had battled Indians, drought, infestations and homesteaders, steadfastly defending what he considered his. He'd give no lenience to anyone who opposed him. Jess knew he had wounded the man's pride – his pride in his heritage and his pride in his son. Even though the son lived, there would be repercussions. Jess would break camp and move on before the sun's first rays crested the horizon.

Jess pulled his blanket over himself as he settled down for the night, his saddle for a pillow. His gun lay at his side; in easy reach should he need it. One arm under his head, he stared without seeing into the small fire.

It slowly dawned on him that he was alone – again. He longed for companionship; someone to ride with and who'd watch his back, just as he'd watch theirs. But life had taught him a bitter lesson in that department. He could trust no one but himself. Too often he'd been betrayed by those who presented themselves as friends; only to be left in the lurch or even left to die by his traveling companions. He tried to tell himself he was used to it, that this was the way his life was meant to be. Yes, he'd gotten used to it. It was one of the few lies he told himself. Months later he would tell that same lie to a young boy, not even realizing that it was a lie, because he had convinced himself that it was true.

Tonight, his shoulder bothered him. It was just another reminder of the hard life he'd lived. The scars on his body bore silent witness to his misadventures. With the war behind him, he'd been as angry and wild as the boy he'd just shot, but he had always known what he was doing – he knew right and wrong. He shook his head sadly. There was something wrong with Jamie. Jamie had no regard for the law or right and wrong; he was driven by the desire to kill.

Jamie apparently had a good home to go back to, to make something of himself. But Jess had no one and nothing but his horse. Like so many others, once the war was over, there was nothing left to go back to. The sharecropper's house he'd called home was long gone. His family was long gone too, only a sister and brother existing somewhere, but where, he didn't know. He'd lost track of them the night he'd set out to avenge his family's deaths. With no ties to anyone or anything he had drifted, eventually falling in with others who were just as angry over the loss of everything they owned. Jess learned quickly that the genteel folks of the towns considered him and his friends as outcasts - throw a-ways from a war that took everything they owned. The new owners were self-righteous over their holdings and there was no room for those who had fought for the wrong side during the war.

No one would give a job to those they considered Confederate traitors. So, Jess and his new companions did they only thing they could – become outlaws. He'd learned how to make his gun an extension of himself, his accuracy dead on. He'd learned how to ride and fight with the roughest of them, quickly advancing to the top – the best at handling a gun. He'd also learned that their way of life was more often than not fatal. They planned for no tomorrows, never expecting to live a long lifespan; never settling down to anything better. Their deaths were not a matter of "if" but "when" it would happen. They morbidly referred to themselves as already being dead men. None would live to a ripe old age; some dying sooner than later. He'd watched as those he had considered friends took to the liking of killing at will; never fearing the law. It had never set right with him – their killing and stealing – and he had eventually distanced himself from the very way of life that had earned him his reputation. Not that he, himself, expected a longer lifespan than his so-called friends. He never expected to live long and that expectation fueled his disregard for his own life. He knew, just like the others, he was already a dead man.

It was during the range wars that he had found a calling. He was good with his gun and ranch owners paid well for his services. Only, it turned out he had a conscience. He couldn't stand injustice and often found himself switching sides to protect those being wronged. He knew their feelings only too well. He'd tried to settle down once, partnering with a man to start a ranch of their own. Only, just like the homesteaders he now defended, he and his partner had lost their property. They'd lost their war in court. Oh, it had been legal all right – if you could call it justice in a town owned by the very man running them off their homestead. So, he turned his hand to protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. Unfortunately, his former friends held no such qualms, and rode for the highest bidder. More than once, he'd been betrayed, gunned down, or beaten by those so-called friends. It didn't take much to learn he was merely a dead man walking. So, he'd learned not to trust anyone. It was, indeed, a lonely existence.

Many memories passed through Jess' mind as he lay staring into the flickering flames. His mind went back to another time and another campfire. It was the night he'd decided to leave his so-called friends. They had sat around the fire that night, swapping tall tales and outright lies. But as Jess sat quietly listening to his traveling companions, an unintended image formed – one he could not rid himself of. As he looked on, one by one the flesh and bone men morphed into gaunt skeletons, mere shadows of themselves. The skeletons turned into dust and blew away, leaving him by the campfire by himself. Their last words still came to him, echoing through his mind. He'd seen the men grow old while still young, one by one turning into dust to be blown away by a light breeze. And as each passed from view, their words lingered, reminding him of the joking mantra – they were already dead men.

One by one he saw his fellow gang members fall. This one to another gunman; that one to a lawman's bullet. One by one they all fell, their skeletons repeating their mantra – I'm already a dead man. Even as the decayed skeletons turned to dust and blew away, they had pointed and admonished him that he would meet the same fate.

It was that very night, as his compadres lay sleeping, that Jess had silently walked away from their sanctuary; finally, riding hard and fast to put as much distance between himself and those he'd left behind. Jess didn't believe in omens, but the vision had chilled him to the bone and took heed. He hadn't chosen the outlaw lifestyle and now he knew he must change or join those who had found an early grave.

He found he wanted more, expected more of himself. However, his fast gun reputation was stuck to him like glue. No matter how many times he tried to change, his past caught up with him. Just like today in Statesville, he'd been minding his own business. He'd purposely ridden in quietly, hoping to go unnoticed. He knew the bar patrons had sized him up as soon as he entered the saloon. They had recognized the walk and aura which surrounds a gunman, notwithstanding the visible low-slung holster. But it had been a slow day and no one seemed interested in causing a ruckus by challenging him. At least, not until that kid had horned in, intent on building a reputation. And just like that, his quiet interlude and quest for a hot meal and shelter had ended. In the morning, he'd be on the run again, running from his past, his reputation, and running from an enemy who may or may not be after him. It all depended upon the story Sullivan had been told and how he had taken his son being shot.

Eventually, his mind stilled, his eyes closed, and sleep claimed him.

CHAPTER THREE

Jess stretched, working out the kinks from sleeping on the ground. As expected, he hadn't slept well. Night terrors caused by his past haunting him, combined with keeping alert kept him from any real rest. He'd be on his way shortly. His stomach rumbled and he ruefully remembered that he had needed to buy supplies while he was in town. He saddled up, knowing he couldn't return to Statesville. He'd have to make do with the hardtack and jerky he still carried. At least his horse had gotten some fresh grass and would be good for traveling.

The early morning gray still covered the land as he turned onto the road leading away from Statesville. He had considered going cross-country but knew the dew would leave clear evidence of his trail. Therefore, he chose the hard-packed road. Any traces he might leave would be covered and lost on the well-traveled road. He wasn't in any hurry, choosing to spare his horse any unnecessary speed. There might come a time and place where he needed that speed, so he saved Traveler's strength for when it became necessary.

He didn't hear the shot which knocked him from the saddle. Didn't feel his gun belt and wallet being taken from him. Didn't feel the boot heel which kicked his body over the road's edge to roll uncontrolled down the hill and land beneath an outcropping where no one would see it. And he didn't hear his horse being ridden away at a fast pace.

CHAPTER FOUR - RESCUED

Darkness surrounded him. Life had taught him well. His instincts protected him as he silently and slowly gained consciousness without letting anyone know he was awake. He listened to the sounds around him. His senses registered several things at once – pain, heat, smoke, food, cattle, horses – and the presence of another person sitting near him. He had no idea where he was as he forced his eyelids to open. It was dark out, but the campfire cast a bright glow. It was the source of the heat he'd felt plus the food and smoke he'd smelled. Under the blanket covering him, he slid his hand towards his holster, only to find no gun resting on his hip. The movement caused him to groan as pain spread through his midsection. From the centralized location of his pain, and the bandages surrounding his ribs, he knew he'd been shot, yet had no recollection of it. It had been late afternoon and he'd traveled miles from Statesville, supposedly well out of Sullivan's range. That's the last he remembered, just riding down the road before awakening here next to the fire.

Someone was sitting across the fire from him. He studied the new person through barely opened eyelids. The man was short in stature, his hair streaked with gray and his face weathered from years in the sun. He was dressed like a cowhand but his paunch indicated an easier life than that on the range. A pain shot through him and another groan escaped his lips. The man was beside him instantly, gentle hands rolling him back onto his back and covering him with the blanket.

"Take it easy, son." The stranger said. Jess was surprised at the kindness in the man's voice. "You've had a bad time of it. You'll be all right. Just settle yourself down there and relax. Neither of us is going anywhere for the time being."

The man took a sip of coffee before going on. "I'm Cal, Cal Lathrop. I'm the cook for this here outfit." He said indicating the air around him. "We're taking a bunch of cattle from one pasture to another for old man Thompson. One of the hands was chasing some strays and found you at the bottom of a gulch. Lucky, he found you when he did – you weren't long for this world the way you'd bled out."

Jess could only stare at the man, uncertain whether to trust him, yet unable to do anything else. He was too weak and hurt to move. He needed the man's protection and help until he could make a go of it on his own.

It was a few minutes before he opened his eyes again. "My horse?" he asked.

"Sorry, son. We didn't find no horse nor nothin'. All you got is the clothes we found you in. No wallet, no gun; looks like a highwayman got you. Ya got a name?"

"Harper, Jess Harper. How long I been here?"

"Going on four days. By the looks of things, someone stripped you clean before pushing you down that cliff. That tumble you took didn't help you none." The man took a sip of coffee. "I imagine you got a few sore spots besides where the doc dug that bullet out of you. Don't you worry about nothing. Just lie back there and rest up." He saw Jess nod his understanding and then close his eyes as fatigue overtook him. "Just rest, son. That's all you gotta do for now." He said reassuringly, knowing the young man was beyond hearing him.

CHAPTER FIVE – TRAIL DRIVE

Jess lost track of time. He no longer knew whether it was hours or days between his bouts of awareness, but slowly he remained conscious for longer and longer periods of time. Always the cook was there beside him; coaxing water and broth down his parched throat, wiping the fever induced sweat from his face, always doing his best to keep him comfortable.

Still unable to sit or stand for any length of time, he'd been transferred to the bed of the chuck wagon when the herd moved on. The lumpy bed was uncomfortable and barely protected him from the wagon's jolting along the rutted ground, but Jess was glad to have it. He couldn't sit up enough to ride in the seat and he certainly couldn't stay in the saddle. He couldn't remember having been this sick and helpless.

Jess' strength steadily returned. At first, he busied himself helping the cook. It allowed him to be useful while also allowing him time to rest when he tired. Typically, he pushed himself to his limits, sometimes causing a back slide to his improving health. He rejoiced the day he could lift a saddle onto a remuda horse's back and settled into the saddle. His joy only lasted long enough for the cold backed horse to turn into a bellowing, snorting, bucking banshee which swapped ends fast enough to make Jess' head spin. It took every ounce of concentration and stamina, but Jess rode the bronc to a still snorting, panting standstill. He petted the horse before picking up the reins and signaling it to move on, intending to help with the cattle. The horse responded like the bucking incident had never taken place, easily complying with Jess' commands. Jess stoically hid how badly the bucking incident had hurt his freshly healed body. Several of the cowhands witnessed Jess' initiation into the "herd" and grudging accepted the newcomer as more than a mere no-account drifter.

No one had asked him to help. In fact, no one had even discussed what he would do when he was better. The other cowhands had pretty much ignored him while he was recovering, but now welcomed the extra hand handling the cattle. Like it was with the bronc, it didn't take him long to prove himself. Whether wrangling horses or cattle, he was good at his job and did what needed to be done. Although nothing had been said, he soon found himself on the work roster, rotating night watch right along with the rest. He did what was asked of him, grateful for the care and food he'd been given. He stayed standoffish, not wishing to make close ties with people he knew he would have to leave. It was always that way. He knew the day would come when his past would jump up to bite him again and he would be invited to move on, take his problems with him.

Cal talked to him the most, often spending the evenings playing poker with Jess and the other cowboys. They all quickly learned that Jess could clean them out in a few hands. They couldn't catch him cheating, and didn't rightly know whether he was or not, but his lucky streak at cards was a wonderment to the other men.

It was Cal that gave him advice and admonishment when he felt Jess needed it. He'd taking a liking to the new cowhand but sensed a dark past hung over him. Cal had watched him; watched his temper flare and saw the lightning draw that told him Jess was no ordinary cowhand. No, the boy had something more behind him – a past which he wouldn't talk about and a deep distrust of everyone.

Cal and Jess were the only ones around the campfire that night. The others had taken to their beds or night watch duties when Jess felt Cal studying him.

"You know son, you got a deep hatred burning inside you. It's there for all to see, just below the surface. Oh sure, you've kept a handle on it but it's gonna be the end of you iffn you let it keep burning. You're young, certainly no boy anymore. Guess the war took that outta ya – made you the beginning of the man you can become. But the war is over, boy, been over for many years. Maybe you got a right to be angry and maybe you don't. But that anger – you gotta let it go. Whoever done you wrong – they don't give a fig about you. Probably don't even know about ya. They just go on doing what they been doing with no thought to yesterday nor tomorrow. Now you; you're the one with the hate eating you up. Here, inside" He pointed to Jess' heart. "If you let that go on, you'll never be what you could be. And you got good in ya. I seen that over and over. You'd best be learnin' to do something besides deal cards and pull that gun fast. Dealing cards, especially if you cheat, will get you nothing but an early grave. But I expect you already know that. And that gun hand of yours." He continued on. "Boy, you oughta know by now there's no life for someone who can draw and shoot like you can. Doesn't matter whether you cross the law or just have a reputation - you'll be on the run for the rest of your life – what's left of it."

Jess looked up from his coffee, his blue eyes black with anger and denial, before turning his gaze back to the fire. Cal continued on. "Ya, I know how you pick the boys clean when you want to. I've seen you make sure someone got the cards they needed too. Don't know how you do it, but you do. I also know how you come by the clothes you're wearing. You didn't have more than a buck to your name when you started playing cards with the boys; and now you're fully rigged. Either you stole it or won a game – and you ain't no thief. Ya'll could be something. You got a way with horses, a good hand with the cattle. Book learning ain't everythin. You'll learn along the way but iffn you don't start learning to expect more of yourself, well you won't be around long. You're a good man Harper, you just don't know it yet"

Jess tossed the remains of his coffee into the fire and stood up, turning in the direction of the tethered horses. A twig snapped and he spun with lightning speed, the gun in his hand as if it had materialized there instead of being drawn. He relaxed and re-holstered the gun when he saw Sandy, the trail boss, enter the camp. He knew he had just validated everything Cal had said – it wouldn't be long before he was a dead man.

The trail boss poured himself a cup of coffee while watching Jess walk out of hearing range. He settled himself on the log near Cal. Pointing his cup in Jess' direction he asked: "You talk to him?"

Cal shook his head sadly. "Ya, I talked but I don't know if he listened. Someone's hurt that boy bad, done him wrong somewhere along the line. He's hurt and angry and doesn't trust anyone." Cal filled his own cup and settled back down onto his seat. "He don't get friendly much with the other hands, but they respect him and he's right beside them working. He sure don't shirk his duties. He's a natural leader and seems to have a strong sense of right and wrong – even if he does cheat at cards now and then."

A silence borne of a long-time friendship fell between the two men. Sandy sighed, trying to make a decision. He liked the drifter they had rescued. Jess had never said how he came to be shot and they had not asked. Sandy figured it was because he really didn't want to find out that his new hand was a wanted outlaw. Jess certainly had the markings of someone wanted by the law. Yet he didn't seem ill at ease or worried that someone was after him. The boy was certainly an enigma. He was kind to animals, did his work, didn't cause trouble, yet had a fast and furious temper and was faster with a gun than any man Sandy had ever seen. He shook his head. He wanted to keep Jess on at the ranch but couldn't afford to have a hot-headed employee. So far, Jess had kept his temper in check. But the day would come when he would explode – and Sandy didn't want him around when that happened.

His musings were interrupted when a horse whinnied and someone called out "Hello, in the camp." Without looking, both Cal and Sandy knew Jess had wheeled and pulled his gun. They also knew he had already melted silently into the shadows, covering them and protecting the camp should the intruder be hostile. It was another unexplained piece of the puzzle as to what made Jess Harper tick. Although he worked well with the men, he was a loner. Yet when any of the men or herd were in danger, Jess was loyal to a fault in protecting those around him.

Sandy called back, asking what the night rider wanted. The answer came back immediately. "I'm Sheriff Judson from Statesville. Can I come in?"

By now the camp had awakened, the cowhands all taking guarded positions as the Sheriff rode in. Sandy nodded at the man and invited him to step down. When the cowhands saw that it really was the Sheriff they knew, they let themselves be seen, yet none went back to bed.

Sheriff Judson waived off the offer of a cup of coffee, coming right to the point. "I understand Jess Harper is traveling with you."

"What if he is . . ." returned Cal before Sandy had a chance to say anything.

"I just need to talk to him."

"He ain't . . ." Cal's answer was cut off as Jess stepped forward.

"I'm right here, Sheriff. I ain't wanted nowhere so you got no call to be rousting me and disturbing the camp." Jess' voice was cold and threatening, his gun aimed at the Sheriff. He was protecting himself and the others he rode with. Even as he spoke, he found the other cowhands silently lining up beside and behind him, backing his play however he chose to play it.

"No, Jess. You aren't wanted, at least as far as I know." The lawman fidgeted with his reins. "Can we talk in private?" he asked.

"Anything you got to say to me can be said in front of the crew. I got no secrets – and I might need witnesses as to what you're saying."

The sheriff shook his head. "You're not too trusting, are you?

Jess' demeanor didn't change. "State your business. We got a herd to watch."

"I've been looking for you for close to a month. I came to ask you to come back to Statesville."

"What for?" Jess challenged.

"Robbery, horse stealing, attempted murder."

"Thought you said I wasn't wanted. I ain't done none of that."

"No, Jess, you haven't, but that's what I charged Lester Hansom with when I arrested him. I have your horse, gun, and wallet, but I'm afraid all your money is gone. I need you to identify your belongings and sign for them."

"How'd you know it was him?" Asked Jess dubiously, sensing a trap of some sort, although his gun hand lowered somewhat.

The Sheriff laughed softly. "Well, the man has to be the worst thief I've ever seen. Rode into town on your horse just like he owned the place. Guess it never occurred to him I might recognize the horse he rode in on; especially with that Texas brand on him. Now, I've got to admit I might not have if it hadn't been less than a week since you'd ridden out. I arrested him on suspicion of horse stealing, not knowing what had happened to you." He shook his head before continuing on. "He said he'd taken everything off a dead man; the description fit you and then he had your wallet with your identification in it. We looked where he told us, but couldn't find your body. Then Doc told me about taking a bullet out of an injured drifter who had been found and was traveling with Sandy's herd, so I came to check it out. The Circuit Judge will be here at the end of the week. We'll hold the trial then. Course I figured either Sullivan himself or maybe even one of his men is who actually shot you, but I can't prove it. When I went out to the ranch to check it out, Mr. Sullivan had gone to Santa Fe on business and the hands swore Jamie had been bed ridden with a fever since the shooting happened – and Doc confirmed it. Anyway, the trial is Friday and I'd appreciate it if you came in to identify your things."

Jess held no affinity for any law dog, yet he was warming up to this one as he holstered his gun. Maybe Judson wasn't crooked like the others he'd encountered. If he was, he wouldn't have let Jess ride out after the shooting and he wouldn't have arrested the drifter on suspicion of being a horse thief; holding him in jail for nearly a month. He didn't quite know what to think about that. A heavy silence hung in the air as Judson waited for Jess' answer. It was interrupted by Sandy's offer for the Sheriff to bed down with the camp for the night and let Jess decide in the morning. Offer accepted, the camp settled down for the night.

Jess lay staring into the fire. He didn't know what he wanted to do. In spite of his first favorable interaction with the sheriff, he still didn't totally trust the system or how it would all play out. But for once he had nothing to lose.

CHAPTER SIX – HIS BELONGINGS RECOVERED

Jess signed the affidavit that the gun, holster, saddle and horse were his, gratefully buckling his gun belt around his waist, comforted by the familiar fit.

As the office door opened and closed, the small breeze it created carried the sweet scent of lilacs and other flowers, followed by the delightful sound of a woman's voice. Jess looked up to see a young woman had entered the office. She was carrying a picnic basket which she set down upon the desk. Judson arose from his seat to come around the desk and plant a kiss on the girl's cheek.

"Hannah, girl," he said with delight as he peeked into the basket. "You're going to spoil your ole pappy if you keep bringing me my meals." Belatedly, he remembered Jess was still standing in his office.

"Oh, forgive me, Jess, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Hannah Barber. Hannah, this is Jess Harper."

Jess doffed his hat and said a polite "Nice to meet you." before returning the hat to his head. He watched Hannah, amused, as she gave him the once over. There was no doubt she was looking him over head to toe. He was used to it but steeled himself for the inevitable "look". The look decent townspeople gave him when they spied the gun slung low on his hip. Their welcoming smiles would freeze onto their faces before turning into thin, tight lips; friendly eyes would turn cold as ice and their bodies would go rigid as they fought the urge to put as much distance between themselves and him as possible, as soon as possible. However, he was pleasantly surprised when she looked up at him with soft brown eyes and a friendly smile upon her face. She had to have seen his gun yet it didn't seem to bother her one bit.

Before he could say anything, the door opened again. A young man in his mid-twenties entered, He was tall and slender, built to withstand the rigors of the American west. He smiled broadly upon seeing Hannah, then saying "I thought I saw you come in here!" and swooped her into a huge hug.

The man had just released Hannah when he noticed Jess – and Jess noticed the badge pinned on his vest. This must be Judson's deputy, Jess mused. The young man's demeanor changed instantly upon seeing how Jess wore his gun. There it was – the look – the look of disdain was clear upon the deputy's face and in his eyes. There was also no mistaking the possessive arm he placed around Hannah's shoulders, warning Jess that Hannah belonged to him. The man's glare didn't bother Jess at all. He'd seen that look many times and knew he was in for many more of the same look and assumption that he was a killer. It was something he had learned to live with. But he was disappointed that Hannah belonged to another man. Hannah was the first friendly female he'd come across in a long, long time. The saloon girls didn't count, they were paid to entertain the customers. No, Hannah's welcoming smile had been genuine. Jess did notice however, that when Kent put the possessive arm around Hannah's shoulders, she seemed uncomfortable and disengaged herself from him rather quickly. Jess thought that was odd behavior for a husband and wife. The mystery was solved only moments later.

"Kent McCord meet Jess Harper." Said Judson.

McCord? Judson had introduced Hannah as Baker, but the thought went away as he held out a hand for a handshake, only to have Kent ignore him.

"Don't you have something to do?" inquired Judson. McCord merely grinned broadly, wrapping an arm around Hannah's waist, drawing her close to his side. Jess could see Hannah was embarrassed by the overt possessiveness and she wouldn't look him in the eye, nor did she look at Kent.

"Why, no sir. I thought I'd take my best girl out to lunch." He continued to grin, taking one hand and turning Hannah's face up so he could kiss her lips. He made a great show of pulling her into his arms and kissing her. It was embarrassing for Jess and he couldn't help but notice that Hannah made no move to wrap her arms around Kent. Jess' sideways look at Judson showed a muscle twitching in Judson's cheek. Clearly, he was not happy.

"Ah," he said breaking up the kiss. "Sorry Kent, but Hannah brought lunch for me and her to eat together. Besides, I need you to ride out to old widow Marstin's place. She's complaining about coyotes getting into her chickens again."

Disappointed, Kent stepped away, turned and exited, calling "See you later" over his shoulder as he closed the door behind him.

Hannah immediately turned to Jess. "There's plenty for all three of us." She invited. Never one to turn down home cooked food, Jess readily agreed to the offer. Hannah grinned as she set about placing plates and food upon Judson's desk. She gave Jess a surprised look, followed by another warm smile, when he took the silverware from her hand and began to assist in setting the "table" for their meal.

The talk was lighthearted as Jess began to relax a little and enjoy the home cooked meal. Cal was a good cook as far as campfire cooking went, but he didn't hold a candle to Hannah's home cooking. Jess would have been happy to sit down to her cooking any time, day or night. She blushed when he complimented her on her food and she laughed at how much he could put away. For the first time in a long time, Jess felt warm inside. It was a feeling he missed. Even with the men out on the cattle drive, he had felt no connection. They were his coworkers and that was all. But Judson and Hannah made him feel welcome in a different sort of way. Neither judged him for how he wore his gun. Neither asked him pestering questions as to his background, although he knew Judson already knew about him. But Hannah seemed pleased to have his company. It was perplexing because of the way Kent had made it obvious that she belonged to him.

When Hannah stood to clear away the dishes, Jess was immediately on his feet and began to help. Hannah gave him another surprised and slightly shy smile as he handed her the dishes.

Judson's "I'll see you at home at super time; Jess and me got business to discuss." Stopped Jess from offering to escort Hannah home – or wherever else she might have been going. Judson waited until after Hannah had closed the door behind her before he spoke, although he was quite amused that Jess still stood, looking at the door where she had departed.

"She's a fine girl," Judson began, "She was married to a right nice man too." He said shaking his head. "But Tom was killed just over a year ago." There was something in his voice which made Jess turn to look at him as he continued on, although Judson still looked towards the door. "He was my deputy." Judson said, wiping a hand across his forehead, sadness in his voice. "It was my fault he died. I sent him along to guard one of the stages. He was killed in the ambush." Judson then turned to look at Jess, motioning him to sit in the vacant chair. "Kent's a good man too, but he's a lawman just like me and Tom. Hannah won't have him because of that. Can't blame her none; she deserves to be happy and not worry about whether her man is coming home at night."

Judson visibly shook himself before turning to the business at hand. "Jess, I've arranged for hotel accommodations for you for the next few days. Judge Coulter will be here day after tomorrow to handle the case against that drifter I arrested. Since you were shot in the back, I know you can't recognize him, but I might need you to vouch for your horse and the other things I took off of him when I arrested him – in spite of having the Affidavit."

Jess nodded his understanding.

"Until the trial, the county will pay for your lodging and meals. You are free to come and go as you please, just be available when it is time for the trial. Afterwards, you can decide what you want to do. Sandy says you're a good cowhand, you might see if he wants to keep you on."

Jess looked at Judson in surprise. Judson was actually suggesting he hang around; wasn't throwing him out of town again as soon as the trial was over. Then another thought crowded his mind – Sullivan.

"What about Sullivan?" Jess asked. "His son swore to kill me. I don't look forward to meeting up with that family again."

"Like everyone else, Sullivan's crew, including his son, is busy moving cattle from one range to another. When the truth came out about the shooting, Sullivan whaled the tar out of that boy; took his guns away. You shouldn't have any problems with them. Besides, I haven't heard any talk about the whole incident for quite a while."

Nodding, Jess stood up and headed for the door. He'd check into the hotel and then see what else the town had to offer. He figured he could use a drink and maybe play a hand of poker with the few dollars he still owned. It was kind of nice to be allowed to stay in town, not get thrown out because of the way he wore his gun. Smiling, he made his way over to the hotel.

CHAPTER 7 – WAITING FOR THE TRIAL

The next day, Jess began to relax and enjoy himself. For once he wasn't being ushered out of town every time he turned around. Word had spread that he was there for the trial and although many gave him the visual once over, they quietly accepted him being among them. It felt good to be waited on in the café and have the waitress smile at him. Then again, he never did seem to have any problems in that area. It was mainly the men who gave him grief. But for right now he was looking forward to having a cold drink in peace and playing a few hands of poker without being challenged.

It was nearing mid-day when Hannah sought him out, suggesting a ride in the country with a quiet picnic down by the local stream. Not one to turn down good company and good food, Jess was all in for the picnic. He did wonder about Hannah's interest in him but figured Judson had arranged the outing in order to keep him out of town and thus out of trouble. It bothered Jess that Hannah gave no indication of interest in Kent, although Kent made both his presence and possessiveness of Hannah known.

It felt good to drive along together companionably. Unlike so many other females he had encountered, Hannah didn't throw herself at him, seemingly content to simply take a break from the town and enjoy a day together. They had chatted easily about this and that and nothing of any importance. She hadn't questioned him about his past, letting him take the lead in their conversations. Hannah had smiled and laughed at Jess' gentle teasing and jokes. It was a lovely sound; one a man could get used to hearing on a regular basis.

They stopped beneath a giant oak tree overlooking the stream, its massive branches spreading out to create a canopy of welcoming shaded area with plenty of room for their picnic blanket and to shelter the horse and buggy. After unhitching the horse, Jess brought the basket to where Hannah had already laid out the blanket.

Laying full length on the picnic blanket, Jess sighed inwardly as he watched Hannah arrange their food. She chatted easily as she set about her task. She had soft yet strong hands, a woman's hands and a woman's body. He fleetingly wondered what it would feel like for those hands to touch him, for her arms to be wrapped around him, and how it would feel to kiss her like a woman ought to be kissed.

Knowing that Hannah belonged to Kent, Jess would normally never have done more than mull over his thoughts. He would never have openly acted upon them except it seemed that fate had other ideas. Just as their drive out to the picnic spot had been friendly, they continued their talk and banter throughout their meal. Hannah told stories about the town which had Jess laughing whole heartedly. He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed and been so relaxed. He relished the few brief moments he had with her when he got to forget who and what he was; didn't need to worry about being arrested or gunned down. Side by side they had carried the basket and blanket back to the buggy. As they both leaned in to set their things down, they came so close together that Jess could feel Hannah's breath upon his face. When he turned to look at her, there was a different look in Hannah's eyes, one Jess couldn't quite read. As they both straightened, their eyes never left each other's and the atmosphere between them changed precipitously. Hannah's hands came to rest on Jess' arms even as his hands found her waist. She leaned closer, her head upturned, lips parted in an open invitation which he accepted. The short, tentative kiss he'd intended quickly escalated as Hannah's body willingly molded to his own. The kiss turned deeper and longer until they were both breathless. Arms still wrapped around each other, Hannah buried her head in his chest, a soft purring emanating from her throat.

"Thank you." She whispered to a now confused Jess. "Thank you so much for that."

His head resting against hers, Jess started to speak, only to have Hannah look up and press a finger against his lips. "Don't say anything." She asked softly. "Don't apologize or say anything that will ruin this moment."

"But I shouldn't oughta done that." He explained. "You belong to Kent and I don't swing my rope in another man's corral."

The slap he received was so sudden and unexpected that he was stunned.

Hannah's eyes flashed angrily as she broke away from his embrace and spoke. "I don't belong to no Kent McCord. He thinks he owns me but he doesn't. When my husband died in the line of duty, I swore I'd never look at another lawman – and Kent is very much a lawman. Oh, he may only be a Deputy right now, but when Dad retires, he'll become Sheriff. And I won't be no Sheriff's wife, waiting for him to come home, wondering every morning if this is the last time he walks out my door." She rushed on before Jess could form a reply. "I wanted you to kiss me. I needed to feel alive again – and I do. And that is why I said thank you." She lifted a hand to the mark visible on his cheek. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Please forgive me."

In response, Jess pulled her close to him and kissed her softly. With his lips still against hers he whispered "You're alive alright; let me show you how much." He then proceeded to wrap her in his arms and kissed her so long, so ardently, and so thoroughly that her knees went weak. When they once again separated, Hannah leaned against the buggy trying to regain her breath and composure. Jess leaned against the buggy beside her, his breath coming just as raggedly. Suddenly Hannah began to giggle. Jess looked at her quizzically, one eyebrow arched, which sent Hannah into full-fledged laughter.

"What's so funny?" queried a very confused Jess.

Hannah brushed her hair away from her face. "Look at the two of us!" She gasped between fits of laughter. "Grown adults acting like teenagers! Isn't it marvelous?" she exclaimed as she suddenly spun around with her arms outstretched. "I'm alive!" she shouted to the universe. Coming back to where he still stood, she put her arms around his neck and boldly kissed him; a hungry, open, kiss that suggested much more to come. And just like that, the world was right between Jess and Hannah again.

Both Hannah and Jess smiled and laughed all of the way home, Hannah's arm resting companionably in the crook of Jess' arm as he drove them back to Statesville. It was already getting dark when Jess dropped Hannah off at Judson's house before returning the rented buggy to the livery. He'd asked her for permission to see her again on the 'morrow, after the trial was over. The affirmation and smile she gave him warmed his heart.

He was whistling a soft tune as he strode towards the hotel. In deference to being with Hannah, he had left his sidearm at the hotel, carrying only the rifle he had taken for protection. He was lost in thought over the day's events and intent on a good night's sleep when he was struck from behind. As he fell, he felt hands grabbing him, dragging him into the darkened alley. Dazed, he struggled as he was slammed face first to the ground. His arm was pulled behind him, pinned there by someone's knee in the center of his back. The weight drove the air from his lungs. Even as he fought to free himself, a gloved hand covered his nose and mouth with a cloth. Still, he struggled for freedom until the sickly-sweet scent on the cloth sent him into oblivion and his struggling ceased.

CHAPTER 8 - CAPTURED

He could hear a distant, disembodied voice as he fought to regain consciousness. His head hurt and there was a strange taste in his mouth. A gasp escaped him and his back arched involuntarily as cold water sluiced over his body, bringing him fully awake, only to discover he was tied spread eagle upon the ground. Whomever he had encountered in that alley had apparently worked him over. He could barely breathe, an indication of cracked or broken ribs - a condition exacerbated by his outstretched limbs. The sand beneath his bare back was cool but he knew it would only be a matter of time before the sun would beat down upon him. His eyes swung from one captured wrist to the other, instinctively fighting his bonds, his muscles screaming at how tautly he was stretched, any movement sending new waves of pain to his already overwrought system. But the effort was useless as there was no relief to be found. Then he heard a snicker, an evil, sickening snicker and looked up into the face of Jamie Sullivan.

"You ain't such a big man now are you, Harper?" Taunted Jamie.

"Untie me and I'll be glad to show you!" Jess spat back as he renewed his struggles.

"You shouldn't have shamed me in front of the town, Harper." Said Jamie as he walked to Jess' side and delivered a kick to Jess' damaged and unprotected ribs, delighting when Jess cried out. Jess had felt there was something not quite right about the boy who had braced him in the saloon, but now his blood ran cold upon seeing the same boy standing over him. Jamie's formerly innocent looking face was now twisted in an evil grin; his eyes dark and menacing. The boy was the walking embodiment of evil.

Knowing he'd been captured and was now at the mercy of the depraved Jamie Sullivan, Jess felt a knot form in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know exactly what Jamie would do to him. He only knew that, tied like this, he was incapable of defending or saving himself. Even if Jamie did nothing more than leave him to the sun's mercy, Jess' current situation would kill him just as surely as a bullet. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the heat would become stifling. The sun's rays would beat down upon his exposed chest and arms, baking him alive, his temperature soaring until it destroyed his mind and his heart gave out. He would sweat until there was no moisture left in his body, his muscles cramping at the loss of life-giving fluid. He was about to die a horrible death of unrelenting thirst and pain. Jamie's penchant for evil would only make his demise that much more painful.

Jamie squatted down beside Jess. "I got you, Harper." Snickered the boy. "I could have bested you back there in town. I've been practicing ever since I got me this gun" he said patting the gun on his hip. "My sole intention was being the best gunfighter there is. I'd been waiting for someone like you to come to town – someone I could really challenge. I've won several gunfights. But you wouldn't know that. I figured you'd be taken in by my innocence act and underestimate me. But you had to go being all noble and refuse to fight me; telling me to go home like I was a child. I'm not the dim-witted hick the town thinks I am and I knew that even if I shot you in the back they wouldn't do nothing to me – they might lock me up for a little while but they'd say I didn't know no better." He paused for breath. "But this." He said, rubbing his right arm. "I never bargained for this. I'll never be able to fast draw again. You should have killed me - because now I'm going to kill you." He reached over, testing the ropes binding Jess, apparently pleased that his subject was well controlled. "No one knows you're here. No one ever comes this way. I promised to kill you and I'm carrying out that promise. You're gonna die; long and slow, but you're going to die just the same."

He left Jess then and mounted his horse. He stared up at the morning sun, shading his eyes from the glare. "How long will it be?" he mused out loud. "Before you choke on your own tongue as it swells? How long will you last after your skin cracks and peels?" Jamie laughed at a private joke. "You're going to beg me to let you die; to put a bullet in your brain to end your suffering."

'Not likely!" growled Jess; straining to make eye contact with his captor. "When I get free, I'm coming for you." He warned. There was a coldness in Jess' voice that spoke volumes. "I showed you mercy the first time we met, but I won't make that mistake again. When I catch up with you, you're going to be the one that dies."

Looking down at the restrained man, Jamie laughed once again. "There won't be another time." He announced with authoritative confidence. "You're going to die here. And you will beg me alright. You'll beg me for water. You'll beg me to let you go. And you'll beg me to end it all for you. But you know what?" Jamie said leaning over his saddle to meet Jess' eyes. "I won't oblige you. No, I'm going to make you beg and plead for the end to come. You'll suffer to the very end. And you'll die alone out here where the buzzards will pick your bones clean." he laughed, an evil, despicable laugh, before he turned his horse and spurred away from where Jess lay.

Alone, Jess silently assessed his situation. As far as he could see with his limited line of sight, there was nothing but barren ground stretching out until it met the horizon. Unfamiliar with the territory, and no visible landmarks, he had no idea where he was. Even as his hands flexed impotently, he was thankful that ropes encircled his wrists, not wet rawhide which would shrink, tightening the tension on his limbs and cutting off his circulation. There was no knotted headband to cause excruciating pain as the rawhide shrunk and the knots dug into his temples. No, Jamie wanted his death to be drawn out and as painful as possible; to feel every ounce of torture until the last moment. He wouldn't have the relative luxury of going insane before he died.

Averting his eyes from the sun's glare, Jess felt its slow climb into the sky, feeling the ever-increasing heat and the effect of being exposed to its direct rays. Although he was used to working in the sun and heat, and carried a fairly deep tan, his shirt had been stripped from him, displaying skin not normally touched by the sun. He could feel his core temperature rise as the day's heat increased in intensity. He'd fought the ropes more than once, each time falling back to the sand, winded, weakened, and no closer to freedom than before he had tried. Sweat glistened on his bare torso, running in tiny rivulets across his body and disappearing into the parched earth beneath him. There was no relief from the salty droplets which found their way into his eyes. It wasn't long before thirst took hold of him, his tongue thickening as moisture left his body, his eyes closed and he slipped into the beginning stages of death.

By the time the sun had reached its zenith, Jess' consciousness floated between barely aware of his surroundings and the darkest reaches of his soul. The thought drifted through his mind that it might have been better if Jamie had subjected him to the wet, knotted rawhide headband. By now he would have been driven insane by the band's constriction. He would no longer have been aware of enduring the insufferable heat and unrelenting torture as his muscles quivered under the strain of being stretched to his physical limits. Images came and went from his mind. He was no longer sure what was real. Even as he lay there he wondered if he was still alive or whether he had crossed over.

He was hallucinating. He imagined someone kneeling beside him, allowing water droplets to drip against his parched lips. He instinctively opened his mouth to welcome the life-giving water. But the drip became a flow which was too much for his swollen throat. His eyes flew open, only to realize he was caught in a nightmare at the hands of Jamie Sullivan. Jamie grinned wickedly as Jess choked and coughed under the steady stream of water which filled his mouth and nose, unable to either swallow or stop the watery deluge. He fought wildly against the ropes holding him but there was no relief even when he turned his head away to spit out the very liquid he needed to survive. Jess hadn't even caught his breath before a gloved hand covered his nose, forcing his head back while pinning it to the ground. Jamie laughed as he felt Jess' struggle beneath him. No matter how Jess tried to escape, Jamie repeatedly forced the canteen against his teeth and poured its contents down him until he was once again choking. Jess' body bucked against the onslaught. He was simultaneously drowning yet dying of dehydration. Through it all, Jamie's demented laugh filled the air around him as each momentary reprieve was followed by another round of near drowning. Eventually Jamie tired of the game and withdrew the canteen. Jess lay panting, his chest heaving as he struggled for air. His breathing was ragged and his lungs burned from inhaling the water. His injured ribs prevented him from drawing a full breath. Dark and angry eyes stared up into soulless eyes. He was unwilling to accept his own helplessness or potential death at the hands of the maniac who held him captive. But his energy was spent. He had nothing left with which to fight. Jamie's haunting laugh echoed in Jess' ears as he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Semiconscious, Jess once again felt droplets of water dripped upon his now swollen, burned, and split lips. His body was on fire. Somewhere deep inside he knew he needed the water to survive. When he turned his head to reach for the moisture, it was no longer there. He had only imagined it.

"Reach for it, Harper." Jamie's voice interrupted Jess' dreamlike state. "It's right there, right beside you." He said as he dripped water onto the ground beside Jess' head, but beyond his reach.

"You want this?" he taunted again. In a game of cat and mouse, Jamie preyed upon Jess' inability to move his head any more than from side to side. A trickle of water was allowed to touch Jess' lips again. He tried to follow the trickle with his mouth, desperate for any drop of liquid, only to have it taken away from him. He could sense the canteen just inches from his lips but he couldn't lift his head enough to reach it. He was still firmly bound to the ground. Jamie continued to tease him by moving the canteen back and forth, giving and then taking away his salvation. Occasionally he'd allow Jess to capture small droplets, if anything at all. He'd play with Jess, letting water drip against Jess' check until he turned his head, straining against his ties as he tried desperately to capture any moisture; only to hear the evil laugh again as the trickle moved out of his reach. Jess heard the last of the canteen's contents being poured onto the ground beside his head; felt the water splash against his face yet beyond the reach of his searching mouth and tongue. Through it all, Jamie laughed and giggled like a child, pleased to play with and torment the man who had shot him.

Severely weakened and nearly out of his head with thirst, Jess sank back in frustration as the water soaked into the ground around him. He heard footsteps walk away and then return. Ice cold water poured onto his chest, eliciting a gasp as his body spasmed in shock when the canteen's contents met his overheated body. The deep throated laugh was so wicked that it made Jess sick to his stomach.

"You like that Harper?" spat Jamie, enjoying the spasms that continued to rack Jess' body. "I kept it in the stream so it would be good and cold. I wanted you to know what it felt like to have your body be fire and ice at the same time. You shot me, Harper." Chanted the crazed boy. "You shot me and that's what it felt like. My shoulder was on fire while my body went cold." Jamie was walking around Jess now. "This situation is all your fault. You shouldn't have shot me."

"You tried to shoot me in the back." Croaked the parched Jess.

"But I missed!" shrieked Jamie. "I ain't never missed before in my life!" he screamed, planting a solid kick to Jess' ribcage, causing Jess to cry out. He could barely draw in a breath.

Jess' breath came in shuddering spurts as he tried in vain to roll away from the pain in his sides, yet held immobile by the ropes staking him to the ground.

"My Pa whooped me somethin' fierce when the Sheriff told him about you. I had to keep pretending I didn't know no better and take that beating." He said "It's the only way I'd be able to keep doing what I been doing." Jess bit his tongue to keep from crying out when two more kicks were dealt to his body. He could tell it angered Jamie that he didn't react to the punishment. But he didn't care because he had once again slipped into unconsciousness. Jamie pushed at Jess' body with his foot, wanting to make sure Jess wasn't playing possum with him. He wanted Jess to wake up so he could torment him some more.

It wasn't any fun torturing someone who didn't react to it. Jamie had learned early on that people thought him dim witted. He used that, hiding an intelligence that rivaled most learned scholars. He'd never let his father catch him reading anything more than the dime novels available at the General Store. But by the time he was ten years old he had read many of the books in his father's library. He found he liked studying the chronicles on warfare. It was from them he'd gleamed the multiple ways to inflict pain and suffering – both physically and mentally. He'd started with small animals before slowly moving on to bigger challenges. It thrilled him to see the sheer terror in his victim's eyes; to hear the panic in their voices as they pleaded for their lives. Through experimentation, Jamie learned that his test subjects had a limited amount of tolerance for his ministrations. If he was too cruel, too quickly, they died before he'd satisfied his lust for torturing them. So, he'd learned his craft, taking his victims to the very brink before allowing a reprieve; then bringing them back to the brink over and over again. Once he reached his pinnacle of ecstasy as master of life and death, he allowed them to die. Most of his victims were buried here; a place he called his own and where no one ever looked for him.

Jamie licked his lips and his eyes lit up as he thought of another way to mess with the unconscious Jess Harper. Moving quietly, he crawled over to where Jess lay. He took out his handkerchief and tied it tightly around Jess' eyes, blindfolding him. Harper would wake up without the ability to see him, see where he was, or what he was doing. It was a great piece of psychological warfare to deprive his already helpless captive of one of his senses. Jamie grinned and sat back, waiting for his victim to regain consciousness.

Jess fought the blindfold. He rubbed his head back and forth trying to dislodge it from his eyes, but to no avail. It was eerily quiet; the heat was so oppressive that Jess could barely breathe. His face, neck, chest and arms were now severely burned. His skin had already cracked in places, weeping his body's serum only to have it crust and dry as it oozed. Sweat no longer ran in rivulets across his body. He couldn't see the heat waves dance across the plain. When he breathed, the hot air scorched his lungs. There was no relief. There would be no relief. He could no longer focus or form coherent thoughts. He began to resign himself to his fate. He had nothing left, he was dying. Part of him wished to pass out again, to be free of the pain, which was now his constant companion, until such time as he ceased to exist.

"Are you ready yet, Harper?" he questioned, touching the gun to Jess' forehead. "Are you ready to beg me to end your life?"

"Where do you want it, huh?" asked Jamie. "The forehead?" He moved the barrel to the side of Jess' head and cocked the hammer. "Naw, your temple." Jamie moved the barrel to under Jess' chin, forcing his head up. "Or maybe just under your chin. That'd be a good spot. Really messy and no one would be able to identify you from the remains." He withdrew the gun for a moment, seeming to consider something before laughing again. "It doesn't matter." He said philosophically, "no one would ever find you anyway – that is IF I granted your wish to end it all." He rammed the barrel under Jess' chin once more.

"Beg for it Harper." Came Jamie's demand. "Beg for it. Beg me to end your suffering."

"Go to hell." Gasped Jess, only to receive a gun butt blow to his head.

Jess was barely lucid when Jamie hissed in his ear. "I told you I was going to kill you. It won't be long now. I won't let you simply give up and die. You're going to feel every ounce of pain to the very end." Jamie laughed while shrugging his shoulders. "I'm just sorry that at some point I won't be able to revive you in order to torment you again. But in the meantime, I'm going to enjoy watching your life slip away."

There was a bird's cry above them. Jamie looked up and began to laugh again.

"Hear those?" he said, looking up to the large black birds that drifted in circles above them; their huge bodies casting shadows around where Jess lay. "You'll be buzzard bait within the hour. They're already circling overhead. You won't be able to hold out longer than that." There was silence for a moment before Jamie snickered one more time. "I'll never get the reputation I wanted from besting you, but I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I killed you just the same. I'll know I paid you back for shooting me; for taking away my ability to kill legally. Ya, that's right. I suckered them into a gun fight just so I could kill them."

He leaned in close to Jess' ear and hissed. "Can you feel them, Harper? Can you feel them buzzards coming for you? You won't be able to see them; only hear them as they come closer and closer."

Something brushed Jess' outstretched arm. He twitched and tried to pull away from it. All the while Jamie grinned broadly as he lightly trailed a handful of feathers across various parts of Jess' body, simulating the approaching vultures. "Feel that?" He questioned. "Can you imagine it, Harper; how they'll come for you? Will you hear them coming or will they suddenly be upon you?" Without warning, he latched onto Jess' outstretched arm, causing Jess to jump. Jamie dug his fingers into Jess' muscles, laughing viciously as Jess struggled uselessly to escape the new assault on his system. Jess gasped and then bit his lip to keep from crying out when Jamie let go of his arm; the pain remaining long afterwards.

Jamie now held the point of a knife at Jess' throat. "Or will they simply take a bite first?" He questioned wonderingly. Jess felt the knife nick his neck and the resulting flow of blood. Jess swallowed convulsively, although there was no moisture for him to swallow, and his heart began to race. Jamie waited, a sneer upon his face as he contemplated his next torturous move. He paused purposefully, playing with Jess' mind before lightly running the knife's point down Jess' chest. It angered Jamie when Jess didn't react to the new stimulus. He had anticipated watching Jess' body quiver in fear as his anxiety built from not knowing when or if Jamie would actually cut him again.

Still blindfolded, Jess was unprepared for Jamie's angry blow to his jaw which sent him into unconsciousness. He didn't feel the facial blows which followed as Jamie pummeled him until he was bloodied. Realizing that his victim had gone limp, Jamie looked down at his handywork. He'd shown Harper who was boss alright. He checked Jess' pulse and respiration and could find nothing. Blood no longer trickled from the cut he'd inflicted upon Jess' neck. Jamie looked down as Harper now lay dead upon the sand; killed by his own hand. Jamie was filled with rage. Harper had cheated him of his full retribution; he'd dared to die before Jamie was through with him. Angry that the end had come so soon, Jamie delivered another swift kick to his victim's ribcage; disappointed when there was no reaction to the punishment. As Jamie walked back to his horse, he shot at the vultures who had been brave enough to land near them. Filled with disappointment and anger, Jamie mounted his horse and rode away.

But the heart still beat within Jess Harper's body; too slow for the layman to detect but it beat with a steady rhythm. He was too dried out to even moan. His face was swollen, even though he had no recollection of the blows rained upon it by Jamie's fists. This time his whole body burned with a never-ending fire. Any attempt at movement sent new streaks of pain through is body. Thirst like he'd never felt before tortured him as he prayed for just one drop of water. He could feel his heartbeat slowing even further. He was a gonner and he knew it.

He was listless and no longer tested the ropes which held him to the ground. He had no more strength to try fruitless attempts at freedom. He was resigned to his fate. He could hear wings flap and feel the air disturbed as birds landed near him, their raucous squawks unnerving in both their volume and their closeness. Blindfolded, he could only imagine how close they were. He knew they had already sensed his helplessness. Soon they would become emboldened and attack him. If the sun didn't finish him, the vultures would.

His mind began to wander, causing him to ponder his life's choices before he died. He knew he was already a dead man. His lifestyle had seen to that. It seemed that today he would finally meet his fate. He always figured he'd die from a bullet. Whether from being bushwhacked or out drawn, he had never really considered any other death. But now he could feel death creeping up on him, sapping away the last of his energy, his life. He could accept being mowed down by a bullet, but not dying staked out in the desert all alone. He tried to swallow but there was no moisture left in his body. He could barely feel his own heartbeat now. He was succumbing to the sun's unforgiving rays. His last conscious thought was that he was fulfilling his destiny; he was already a dead man.

He was cold, shivering – and wet. A soft rain was falling, soaking the earth and cooling his fevered body. Jess felt water splattering his face and turned his head to catch a few precious drops. Over and over, he captured moisture and held it in his mouth, feeling the dryness ease. It was a short cloudburst, but enough to partially revive Jess. His relief was short-lived as the sun once again beat down upon his battered body; steam rising as the moisture burned away. He could feel his core temperature rising rapidly.

The vultures had left during the rain but he heard them begin to return and surround him. He could sense them gaining courage and working their way ever closer to where he lay. A cold chill ran down his spine as he felt their presence; smelled the stench of death. It would only be moments before the first bird tested its prey – him. He was their prey. He started when something nipped his outstretched hand. His heart began to race and he reached deep for breath; each breath bringing him strength. Anger coursed through his veins. He swore he was not going to die. Not today. On the verge of being eaten alive, he gathered his last ounce of strength and with a mighty yell, fought his bonds once more.

Sinking back, he panted from his exertion but was joyous to find some slack in one of the ropes. The vultures had scattered when he yelled, but he knew they would be back presently. Encouraged by the small amount of progress he had obtained; he waited a few minutes for his breath and strength to return before putting forth another effort. He fell back, exhausted, but his left arm was now free; having pulled the stake from the newly moistened ground. It took him a moment or two to realize he could now reach and remove his blindfold grateful that he could now see.

His ribs complained as he reached up to untie his right hand, only to find that his fingers were numb and wouldn't work right. He latched onto his right wrist with his left hand and rolled back to his original position. As expected, the stake slowly let go of its hold upon the earth so that now both hands were free. When he had again rested, he repeated the maneuver, eventually managing to pull out the stakes tied to each foot.

Jess curled into himself, gasping as pain overwhelmed him. He was unable to separate the pain from his broken ribs and burned skin from the screaming sensation in his extremities as circulation was restored. Numbed nerve endings came alive and added their voice to the symphony of feelings and emotion as relief and thankfulness occupied Jess' mind – he was alive.

Fighting for control of his body, Jess looked around him. Only a few feet away lay a canteen. Jess dragged himself to it, praying there would be some water left inside. The rain had refreshed him but wasn't nearly enough sustenance for his ravaged body to carry him any distance. The ropes were still tight around his wrists and his numb fingers wouldn't grip the canteen, so he picked it up with the heels of his hands; grateful that water sloshed when he shook it. Eagerly he poured the meager contents into his mouth. He fought the inclination to guzzle it down; instead swallowing small amounts at a time. Disoriented and unsure of his destination, Jess forced himself to his feet and staggered towards the westward setting sun.

CHAPTER 9 – JESS FOUND

He hurt. That was all there was to it as he slowly regained consciousness. His left arm was pinned across his chest by bandages while other bandages encompassed his ribs. It hurt to take a breath. Under another set of bandages, something thick and slimy covered his face and neck. His right arm was bandaged from fingertips to shoulder. He didn't have to open his eyes to know he was in a doctor's office, although that feat was nearly impossible with the way his face was swollen and bruised. Restless, he moved his head back and forth against the pillow, trying to erase the fogginess which clouded his thinking. Hannah's voice came to him, reassuring him he was safe and in good hands. Her fingers stroking his hair were soothing as her voice calmed him and he lay quietly. He felt her hand under his neck, lifting him up for a drink which he gladly accepted. It tasted like water but he was guessing it had a sleeping potion in it as he felt a familiar heaviness coming over him. Hannah's voice was still beside him, shushing him, her hand again gently stroking his hair while she once again assured him, he was safe, and he needed to rest as he succumbed to the medication.

Jess had no idea how many hours had passed before he awoke from the drug induced sleep. He still hurt, but not as badly as the first time he had awoken. Although still swollen, he was able to open his eyes a little more, surveying the room wherein he lay.

It was Judson who sat beside him now, the elderly man's face creased with concern.

"Judson." Jess managed to get past bruised and swollen lips; an acknowledgement that he was both awake and aware of his surroundings. Judson started to rest a hand on his shoulder but pulled it back, afraid he'd hurt the man who was so badly burned.

"Been worried about you, boy." Judson began. "When you were brought in, ole doc here" Judson thumbed over his shoulder, pointing towards the doctor who Jess could barely make out. "was worried you weren't gonna make it. Glad to see you're on your way to recovery." Judson paused to take a deep breath before continuing on. He was all business now. "Jess, what happened to you? Do you know who did this? That bush whacker was in jail so it couldn't have been him and he didn't have any friends that I'm aware of. Do you know who – or why?"

Jess took time to organize his thoughts before speaking. "Don't rightly know who knocked me out. Never saw or heard them 'cause they dragged me into the alley and chloroformed me. When I woke up, I was staked out and Jamie Sullivan was standing over me. He's the only one I can identify." He paused to draw a breath and swallow. His mouth wasn't working quite right and he had to concentrate to form his words. The little bit of effort it took to talk exhausted him but he continued on.

Jess had to speak slowly, concentrating to say what he meant to say. "Jamie wanted revenge for the shooting – and for the beating old man Sullivan gave him for lying about how it happened." He paused, trying to catch his breath before continuing. "And because of it, he just wanted me dead. He said his arm didn't work right anymore so he just wanted me dead – didn't care how – just dead." He tried to laugh but the movement brought on a coughing spell that caused pain to shoot through his ribs.

Judson ran a hand through his gray hair while shaking his head. "That boy's a sick bastard. I never dreamed he'd go that far." Judson stood then, but stayed put, worrying his hat in his hands before saying in a sorrowful voice. "This is gonna kill his old man. Seth Sullivan and I've been friends for a long time. I've always known something wasn't quite right with Jamie but ole Seth just wouldn't listen; said it was just youthful exploration of the world." Judson's eyes rolled over Jess, taking in the damages done to the man. "This," he said nodding towards Jess. "This wasn't youthful exploration; this was an attempt at cold blooded murder." Judson shook his head again before donning his hat. "This is going to be one of the hardest arrests I've ever had to make." He said as he turned and exited.

Jess lay back against his pillows, fighting to draw in air and ease the pain. He didn't want to talk anymore; didn't want to think. He just wanted the pain to stop so he could leave this wretched town which had brought him nothing but trouble.

Checking Jess' pulse, the doctor began explaining his injuries. Severe sun burn, dehydration, cracked and broken ribs, and a dislocated shoulder.

Jess' brow furrowed at the doctor's words.

The doctor looked back at him questioningly. "What happened out there, Jess? What's the last thing you remember?"

Eyes closed, Jess thought for a moment before answering slowly, thoughtfully. "Water; trickles of water just out of reach. He taunted me with it; giving me some and then taking it away."

"He probably prolonged your life by giving you some." Commented the doctor.

"Ya, he saved my life alright;" snorted Jess in disgust, his dark eyes flashing in anger. "Long enough to torture me more before I passed out from his "care."

The doctor seemed taken aback by Jess' vehemence but encouraged him to remember whatever he could. By all accounts, Jess should not have survived his ordeal, so he wanted the medical work up of his unusual patient to be thorough.

Jess remembered everything – every kick, every hit, every taunt and every ounce of pain he had suffered through because of Jamie Sullivan. He remembered wandering aimlessly for what may have been minutes or hours before finding shade. He remembered his frustration when his fingers refused to work right and he couldn't free himself from the stakes still attached to his wrists and ankles. He remembered how they caught at the underbrush, pulling at him; tripping him as he struggled to reach the water he could hear in the distance. Yet he said nothing. He'd never been an open book for people to read and he wasn't about to begin now.

"How'd I get here?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Kent and Hannah found you near the waterfall." Was the doctor's simple reply.

"Kent? Hannah? Waterfall?" Jess asked questioningly, uncomprehending what the doctor was saying.

The doctor nodded. "Yes. You'd gone missing and Hannah was beside herself. It was insufferably hot so Kent took her out to the waterfall where it would be cooler and to take her mind off things. Lucky for you that they got there when they did. With the fever induced by the sunburn and your dehydration, your body was shutting down. If you had climbed into the river to cool off, or drunk too much cold water, it would have been too much shock to your system. They bundled you up and brought you in to me. That was four days ago

Jess fell silent for a moment before turning his head to look at the doctor. "The trial. I missed the trial?"

Doc snorted lightly. "Ya, what there was of it. That thief was so bad of a liar the jury didn't believe a word he said. Then there was Judson's testimony that he had no bill of sale for your horse. He'll be spending a few years in the county jail. What with attempted murder, theft, and horse stealing, he was lucky he didn't get hung."

"It looks like you are going to recover quite well." Continued the doctor. "It is going to take some time for the sunburn to heal. Its lucky you are used to being outdoors and were only stripped of your shirt – anything else and your recovery might be a different story. As it is now, your feet, legs and back are the only things not burned. You've got quite a few bumps and bruises on your legs. You must have fallen repeatedly. Once I take the bandage off your shoulder you can use it but use it gently until the stiffness goes away. Now, as to your ribs, you've got three cracked ribs. I'm afraid you are going to be stuck here in town for a while. You're on bed rest for about a week. Then I'll let you get up and around and see how you progress but you won't be riding or driving or anything active for a good three weeks, so get used to the idea that you are grounded."

It was an idea that didn't set well with Jess. He hated being confined to bed for any length of time; let alone being told he couldn't ride for three weeks. By the time he could ride again, Sandy wouldn't need him anymore. The foreman couldn't be asked to save a job for someone he'd barely known. No, Jess would have been replaced and the ranching world would move on like it always did. They'd already have a full roster of cowboys for the fall round ups and drives. Without the job at the ranch, he had no income and no place to go. He'd be no better than the saddle tramp he'd been called so many times.

But Jess found that he slept a lot. The doctor told him it was his body healing; that he needed the restorative sleep in order to get better. When he was awake, the only relief to Jess' boredom was Hannah's daily visits. It was Hannah that tirelessly sat by his bedside, amicable to his every wish; spooning soup or broth for him to swallow; repeatedly helping him drink in order to nourish and heal his body. Her company was a welcome distraction from endless days of hurting, healing and restlessness. She didn't chatter on like some women did, merely bringing him some town gossip, but somehow always evading his questions in regards to Jamie Sullivan. She'd always switch the conversation to inquiring after his well-being and doing her best to make sure he was comfortable. The lack of news regarding Jamie stuck in his craw. Something was wrong and he knew it. He just didn't know exactly what was wrong.

As the week wore on, Jess couldn't decide whether he should look forward to Hannah's company or not. He was beginning to develop feelings for her. He would lay awake at night trying to figure how such a gentle creature was drawn to him – him, a no-good gunslinger with no future. He knew he had to do better – be better – if he ever had a chance of making a go of settling down. Yet behind every thought of making a life with Hannah was the restlessness that refused to allow him any peace. It spurred his consciousness, reminding him that no good could come from caring about someone too much. He'd had too many people taken from him; been betrayed too often and forced to move on too many times.

He knew his time was measured in minutes and hours, not months and years. This time he had survived, but it was only a matter of time before he'd face his fate. It weighed heavily upon him as the time slowly clicked by.

After the first week, the doctor removed the bandages and allowed Jess to look at himself in the mirror. Jess marveled at how well his face had healed, although he likened the rest of him as looking like a molting chicken; the dead and damaged skin peeling in irregular patches as new skin formed. Without the bandages, Jess found his own shirts to be too rough for his arms and torso. The doctor had provided some shirts made of softer material. These he could at least tolerate and be covered decently when Hannah came to visit. When he was alone, and with the doctor's agreement, he preferred leaving his healing skin to the open air, without the irritation caused even with the softer shirts. However, his face had healed more quickly than the rest of his body. It was no longer tender and the doctor allowed that Jess could go ahead and shave the more than a week's worth of whiskers he now sported.

As Jess stood looking at his lathered face in the mirror, he hesitated to begin what should have been a routine task. However, the dislocated arm was still a work in progress and he found it difficult to hold it in the proper position. The other hand shook a little and he couldn't seem to get a tight hold on the razor. Just as he was about to begin, there was a knock on his door and, upon his bidding, Hannah entered. Seeing her reflection in the mirror, Jess smiled. She came to stand beside him, eyeing his lathered face and unsteady hands. She took the razor from him and walked over to the overstuffed chair in his room.

"Come." She said patting the chair. "Sit. Let me shave you."

Jess looked at her in bewilderment. He'd had a Barber shave him, but never a woman and never in the privacy of his own room – even if it really was within the doctor's office.

"What? Don't you trust me?" she teased, merriment dancing in her eyes as she opened and closed the razor. Then more seriously she reassured him "I shaved my husband many times when he was injured. I am very good at it" She patted the chair again, repeating. "Come. Sit. Let me do this for you."

Jess slipped into his shirt before crossing to the chair and sitting down. Her fingers lifted and tilted his head before she began. As she began to shave him, she talked about her times shaving her husband. Her soft voice and prattle were comforting. After the first touch of the razor, Jess closed his eyes and relaxed because Hannah was gentle and genuinely good at shaving a man's face. He liked the quiet timbre of her voice, her soft hands touching him as she expertly wielded the razor. He found it, for lack of a better word, intimate.

Hannah sat on the arm of the overstuffed chair as she carefully wiped the remnants of shaving cream from Jess' face. He could feel her breath on his face, smell the sweet scent of her perfume. One hand cupped his chin as she leaned in and kissed him. She offered no resistance when his arm encircled her waist and he pulled her onto his lap, her arms automatically going around his neck. Time slowed as their lips met in a kiss that started out softly but grew deeper and more passionate. They were in sync as their lips separated, only to return to each other for longer and deeper kisses; their desire for each other seemingly unquenchable. Finally, Hannah sighed and laid her head on Jess's shoulder, allowing her hand to roam through his thick hair before her fingers traced his solid jaw line and then remained splayed upon his throat, feeling the blood course through his veins.

"I'm not hurting you am I?" questioned Hannah, perfectly content to stay curled up on Jess' lap, her head against him. Her hand slipped lower, exploring the chest and shoulder muscles hidden beneath his shirt.

She needn't have asked because Jess would have withstood anything to hold her like this; to touch each other and kiss until they were satiated. Jess felt empty when Hannah said she had to leave; that she had an appointment with the dressmaker. He would have much preferred she stay right where she was, but she was insistent that she needed to go. He walked her to the door where she turned for a goodbye kiss and promised to bring him supper.

Jess watched her go, his heart aching. He wanted to take her out to dinner to repay her for her kindness. He wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her, her hopes and dreams. He wanted to be the one who made those dreams come true. He wanted a life with her and seriously considered making a commitment.

CHAPTER 10 - DISAPPOINTMENT

Anger flashed through Jess' body as he whirled to face Judson.

"What do you mean you can't find him?" He demanded, pounding his fist on the table.

"I mean," answered Judson taken aback at Jess' fury, "He's gone. Jamie Sullivan hasn't been seen since the day you were found alive." Hat in hand, Judson ran a hand through his silver hair. "There's no trace of him. No one has a clue as to his whereabouts. I've sent telegrams to all the neighboring towns, but until we hear something solid, I've called off the search for him."

A muscle in Jess' jaw twitched repeatedly, his hands balled into fists as he digested the latest piece of information.

"I'll find him." Asserted Jess. "I'll find that little son-of-a-bitch and I'll kill him."

"I wish you wouldn't do that, Jess. Leave Jamie to the law."

Judson hadn't finished his sentence before Jess' "NO! HE'S MINE!" filled the room.

"Jess." Said Judson while shaking his head sadly. "We backtracked your trail from where Kent found you." Here he paused, reluctant to go on. Meeting Jess' dark eyes, he swallowed before continuing on. "You aren't Jamie's only victim."

Jess looked at Judson sideways. "What do you mean?"

Judson didn't flinch from Jess' intense look. "Bones, Jess." He said uncomfortably. "We found dozens of bones buried near where he had you staked out." Here Judson paused and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Some of them were human."

There was a heavy silence in the room as the weight of Judson's statement sunk in. Judson was still shaking his head in disbelief.

"We knew Jamie wasn't quite right, but we had no idea he was this sick. If you hadn't survived, we might never had known, and he would have gone on killing in secret." Judson wiped a hand across moist eyes.

"The bones," interjected Jess. "Are they from town?"

"No." Judson shook his head. "Not as far as we can tell since no one has gone missing except you. They're most likely transients Jamie encountered. He used to come into town with tall tales about the gunfights he'd gotten into." Judson was still shaking his head. "We all just figured he'd made it all up. I ain't no doctor and I certainly don't always understand how people think, but I'm afraid those gunfight stories were just his way of covering up what he was doing. He was bragging about his escapades right to our very faces." Judson rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Lord help me." He said. "Like everyone else I thought Jamie was storytelling and never checked into it."

Jess was torn between anger at Jamie and sympathy for the Sheriff.

"Jamie isn't what he pretended to be." Stated Jess. "He's smart, really smart; but with a twisted mind. And he's a cold-blooded killer that needs to be stopped."

"Hey, just what do you think you're doing?" exclaimed Judson as Jess began reaching for his gun belt and hat.

"I'm going after him. That's what I'm going to do." Said Jess with finality. "He has to be stopped and I'm the one that's going to do it."

Jess had started for the door but Judson's hand on his chest stopped him. It was only his respect for the lawman that kept Jess from shoving him aside so he could exit.

"Now you just hold on there, Jess." Stated Judson calmly. "You're in no shape to go chasing off after Jamie Sullivan. You're only just now recovering well. Give yourself a few more days to heal. Give us a few more days to check out some leads." Judson was firm with his wording. "Then, and only then will I sanction you going after Jamie – and only in the accompaniment of either myself or Kent."

Two stubborn men faced each other tensely. Judson didn't want to hurt the man before him but he'd do what was necessary to maintain law and order. He couldn't have a gunman going off halfcocked and out for revenge.

Jess fought his inclination to explode; barreling his way through anything which stood in his path. But he respected Judson and the law. He knew that part of him still burned with a desire for revenge. And he knew Judson spoke the truth; he needed to be fit in order to take on Jamie Sullivan.

Jess flexed his hands in anger, feeling the tightness of the newly formed skin on his hands and fingers. Yes, he'd wait. He'd wait until the new skin was no longer tender to the touch. He'd wait until his hands once again handled his gun with speed and accuracy. He'd wait until he could draw as fast or faster than ever before; and he'd wait until the time was right to slip out from under Judson's scrutiny to search for his quarry.

Judson was relieved when Jess relaxed, stepped back, and nodded his acquiesce to waiting.

"I'm moving back to my hotel room today." Stated Jess as a change of subject. "But I can't stay long as I don't have my job any longer and I don't have much money."

Judson nodded. "Maybe I can help with that a little." He said pulling an envelope from his vest and held it out towards Jess. "Sandy came by with your pay. We didn't know where you were at the time, so he left it with me. Here." he said pushing the envelope towards Jess once more. "It's yours, take it."

Jess hesitated briefly before accepting the envelope. It was his after all. He had earned it working for Sandy at the Thompson ranch.

They nodded at each other in understanding before Judson turned and left.

CHAPTER 11 - RECOVERY

As he had always done, Jess drove himself. In spite of being admonished to "take it easy", he forced himself; demanding his body respond. His ability to work through pain had saved him many times and he refused to allow himself to become accustomed to anything less. But most of all, he would continuously flex his hands and fingers, bringing strength back into them. The rejuvenated skin stretched over sinewy muscle as he brought his body back into fighting shape, his draw as fast if not faster than ever before.

The only break in his new routine were the daily visits with Hannah. Freed from the doctor's office, he was now able to take her to dinner. He could spend time with her. He hid his intention of seeking out Jamie Sullivan, although he was pretty sure Judson had told her. She never asked what all had happened out on the prairie and he had vowed to never tell her. A woman alone in the west was hard enough by itself. She didn't need to be worried over the evil people like Jamie Sullivan could bring to their peaceful town, nor about someone she cared about purposefully encountering it.

He still wasn't sure about their relationship. She definitely seemed better suited to be with Kent, yet she insisted on seeing him. That she was easy on the eyes was a fair statement, and her demeanor was encouraging and supportive. When he held her in his arms and kissed her, the world went away so that there was only the two of them which existed. Part of him wanted that relationship while another part of him fought against anything that suggested something permanent. His emotions were in flux and it was something he needed to set right before he could begin his quest. He needed to be clear headed and focused in order to do what he had to do.

Jess took to riding in the early morning coolness. Both he and Traveler needed the conditioning. Both were getting soft without the mileage they normally experienced. Jess smiled at being followed each morning. Sometimes it was Kent; sometimes Judson; but every morning he was followed. It amused him that the lawmen thought he didn't detect their presence on his trail. He'd been on the run often enough that he could evade anyone he chose or leave a trail even a novice could follow. He knew how to lay a false trail and many more tricks to confuse a posse. But he purposely let Kent or Judson follow along behind him, pretending to be oblivious to their company.

Once Jess had established a daily pattern, it was easy for him to determine when he was no longer kept under observation. After taking Hannah to dinner, he would go to the saloon for some drinks and rounds of poker. After a few hours he would routinely return to his hotel room. He'd leave the light on for an hour or so and then extinguish it like he had gone to sleep for the night. Letting his eyes become accustomed to the dark, he was able to spot his "sentries" and when they, themselves retired for the night, assured that Jess wouldn't be up and about until morning.

The moon was barely a sliver in the night sky when Jess slipped out of his hotel room. Traveler made no sound as he was saddled and led from the livery. Horse and rider quietly rode out of town, determined to find the crazed man-child and bring him to justice.

CHAPTER 12 - CONFRONTATION

Jess spent part of the night laying false trails for Judson and Kent to follow. He hated wasting the time, but he didn't want either of them catching up with him before he had cornered his quarry. He figured that he'd let the circumstances determine how the taking of Jamie played out. Jess wasn't a cold-blooded killer like Jamie, but he wasn't opposed to making sure Jamie never harmed another person. Part of him worried that Jamie wouldn't receive the proper help or punishment. Being locked up in an insane asylum was a distinct possibility but Jess didn't know if that would ever cure the troubled young man. Moreover, Jess worried that at some point in the future Jamie would be released only to begin his killings all over again. Jamie was smart. Jess was convinced he could fool the doctors into believing he had been cured. The very possibility that Jamie could carry out such deceit was worrisome. Jess didn't know the way a person's mind worked; but he knew pure evil when he saw it – and Jamie was pure evil.

The desire for justice drove Jess on into the night. His body still bore faint scars from his encounter with Jamie, yet his biggest concern was not for himself but for Jamie's future victims. He definitely needed to be stopped and Jess had made it his mission to be the one stopping him.

Daylight was just cresting the horizon as Traveler slurped noisily from the river beneath the waterfall. Vaguely Jess remembered having been here. This was where Kent had found him after his escape. He would back track his own path until he came to where Jamie had held him. It was where he had decided to begin his search for Jamie; the place where Jamie had felt the most comfortable and where he had carried out his murders. He hoped to find some sign left by Jamie. There was always some sort of sign; something which would lead him to whomever he sought.

Time and the elements had erased the exact location of Jess' captivity, yet he instinctively knew when he encountered it. How he had made it the nearly five miles to the waterfall, Jess would never know. He circled Traveler in ever widening circles, seeking clues that only an experienced tracker would see. He tried not to remember what it had felt like staked out under the blazing sun, feeling his life sucked out of him; but the memories came flooding back. Absently, he flexed his glove covered fingers and rubbed the new skin on his chest. He found the sun affected him more now than it had ever done before. It would take time for his body to readjust and toughen up to the rigors of his lifestyle. But he didn't have time; he needed to stop Jamie before he killed again.

There was no visible trail. Jamie had not been through this way for some time. Jess continued to ride in ever widening circles before something caught his eye. Someone had ridden the same path often enough to leave an indentation that even the wind hadn't erased – and it led right back towards the waterfall. Jess sat aboard Traveler, eyeing his new find and thinking through his next step. He'd just been at the waterfall and seen nothing. Then again, he hadn't been looking for clues there; only a place to begin his search. Ever observant, he'd seen no sign of anyone camping near the waterfall; yet had not considered that there might be a cave hidden beneath the falling water. It was then that Jess knew where to find Jamie and began to retrace his path.

To the casual observer, the path Jess followed seemed to be nothing more than a trail through the thicket. However, Jess could see that it was wider than a normal animal track, the brush and limbs bent or beaten back by regular use. This was the same grove of trees that Jess had fought his way through in search of water. He hadn't found the trail back then; remembering with pained clarity how he had stumbled and tripped over tree roots and other foliage that hindered his path. But this trail, once found, allowed easy passage.

The gentle gurgle of the flowing steam lulled a person into a false peace. It was easy for Jess to imagine how someone could have camped along its banks, unaware of the danger that lurked so close. Bedded down for the night, the unwary stranger would have been easy prey for the demented Jamie. Traveler's ears flicked forward and back, his nostrils flaring, muscles tensing as they neared the grove's edge. Jess patted his neck, reassuring him; knowing his horse had sensed what he had already suspected. There was now someone else in the vicinity.

Only a moment later, his suspicions were confirmed when a bullet struck the ground in front of them. Jess reined Traveler back deeper into the grove, trying vainly to see from which direction the shot had come. Vaulting from Traveler's back, Jess took cover as a second shot smacked into the tree beside his head. Jamie's laugh echoed over the space between them.

"Come on out, Harper." He called.

"Not likely!" Jess answered. "I'm here to take you in Jamie. Thrown out your guns."

The resulting laughter was his answer. A complete calmness overcame Jess. He could imagine Jamie's stance; the wild look in his eyes, the way Jamie licked his lips in excited anticipation. The signs had all been there, except no one had bothered to do anything to keep the boy from becoming a killer.

His back against a tree, Jess cocked his rifle before turning to aim where Jamie stood above the waterfall. Immediately, another bullet whizzed by him, forcing him to return to his protective cover.

"I can keep this up all day." Called Jamie. "I could end this now, but what fun would that be?" He paused before going on. "When I tire of this game, I'll put my bullet exactly where I want it. I won't miss when it is time to finish this. You cheated me before, but you won't escape a second time; I'll make sure of it."

"Why don't you come get me?" challenged Jess. "Meet me out in the open like a man?"

Another bullet smacked into the tree beside his head. "You had your chance in the saloon. Now I can't fast draw anymore, so you'll take me on, on my terms."

"That'll be the day!" shouted Jess as he broke cover and fired in Jamie's direction, before returning to the protection of his tree. A volley of shots answered him.

Jess sensed the rider before actually seeing him; heard the sound of a single galloping horse. He knew that it was either Judson or Kent – and they were riding right into Jamie's lair. They'd be shot down before they even knew what hit them. Jess heard the shot and yelled a warning, but he was too late. In horror, he watched as Kent's horse crumpled mid-stride. It was like watching something in slow motion as the horse stumbled, his head and knees striking the ground before horse and rider turned a somersault, the horse landing on and trapping Kent's leg beneath its unmoving body.

Jess sprinted across the clearing, bullets following him as he slid behind the slim protection of the fallen horse. Kent was alive but unresponsive.

"Throw your guns out, Harper." Commanded Jamie. "Or I'll kill him where he lays." To reinforce his words, Jamie fired a bullet into Kent's exposed leg. Blood began to flow from the fresh wound. "I can do it. You know I can! But if you give yourself up, I'll let him live."

There was an awkward pause while Jamie waited for his answer. Jess swallowed the lump in his throat. If he gave himself up, Jamie just might keep his word and let Kent live. He couldn't be sure of that and that's what bothered him. If he sacrificed himself, then Kent might have a chance of getting help and living – but if he could only be sure.

"I'm waiting, Harper." Came Jamie's shout, interrupting Jess's thoughts. "What'll it be? You or him?"

"Wait!" called Jess. "You swear you'll let Kent go? You won't kill him if I give myself up?"

"I swear!" replied Jamie. "I want you and I want you dead." There was a small pause. "Now throw your guns out and stand up."

Jess hesitated a moment longer before shouting back "Alright!" and tossed his rifle out into the open, followed immediately by his sidearm. Hands raised, Jess stood up and stepped away from the fallen horse and Kent. Jamie stood near the top of the waterfall; his rifle aimed at Jess' heart. Jess heard the rifle report and waited for the bullet that would end his life. He felt nothing and for a moment couldn't understand why he was still standing. Then, as he watched, Jamie's lifeless body corkscrewed and fell face first into the stream, its current carrying him over the waterfall only to wash ashore in an eddy. Jess looked around for another shooter, ready to dive for cover if it was needed. From the side, he could see an elderly man making his way down the side of the stream to where Jamie's body lay. The man looked at Jess and nodded an acknowledgement, letting Jess know he had nothing to fear from the newcomer.

Jess retrieved his firearms and returned to Kent's side. Using his handkerchief, Jess bandaged Kent's leg as best he could to stop the bleeding. Leaving Kent, Jess approached the newcomer who had pulled Jamie's body from the stream. The man's shoulders were slumped in defeat and tears streamed down his cheeks. He was shaking his head and mumbling as Jess came near.

"I'm sorry, boy." The elderly man stated. "I tried to raise you right, but you just couldn't stay out of trouble." He looked at Jess then back down at his son's body. "I couldn't let you continue – not when I found out what all you'd done. I had to stop you." He was still shaking his head as tears continued to flow. "Your evil won't rule you anymore. You can rest in peace now, boy."

Without looking at Jess, the man spoke to him. "I'll get someone from the ranch to fetch Jamie's body. Can you get McCord back to town alright?"

"I reckon I can make it." Answered Jess as James T. Sullivan turned and walked away.

Kent came to long enough to help Jess get him onto Traveler. Jess could tell that Kent had several broken bones and was glad when he passed out again. The ride back to town was long and even if ridden at a walk, would have been excruciating for the injured man. Heading back at an even pace, Jess watched as the sun lowered into the horizon and a cold rain began. He did his best to cover both Kent and himself with his slicker, although he knew trying to stay dry would be futile.

The streetlamps had already been lit when Jess pulled up outside the doctor's office. He hollered but no one came to the door. With difficulty, Jess dismounted and levered Kent off Traveler. Supporting Kent, Jess pounded on the doctor's door, finally hearing footsteps cross the floor. The doctor was in a foul mood at having his evening interrupted by two cowboys dripping water across his threshold, but his attitude changed immediately upon seeing the injured Deputy. As Jess helped the doctor lay Kent onto the examining table, he wasn't prepared for the woman's scream that followed them. Tears streaming down her face, Hannah was beside Kent before anyone could stop her. Stunned by Hannah's sudden appearance, Jess barely heard the doctor's explanation that she had been visiting him and his wife that evening. But it was the look upon Hannah's face that stunned Jess most of all. Hannah was looking at Kent in a way she had never looked at him. In spite of all her protestations, Hannah was in love with Kent. Maybe she had believed she didn't love him. Maybe she had denied her attraction to her father's deputy. But there was no denying the look and anguish Hannah exhibited. She was completely and truly in love with Kent. Jess felt a deep loss in the vicinity of his heart. Even if he hadn't fully committed to settling down, he felt the sting of rejection. Leaving the doctor and Hannah to take care of Kent, Jess slipped silently out of the doctor's office.

CHAPTER 13 – LONELY

Jess slowly rode away from town. He needed to be alone. There was much to take into consideration. He had thought about settling down in Statesville. It was a good town and he had thought he might have a life with Hannah. From a hill not far from town, he sat aboard Traveler, looking down upon the sleeping town. He shifted underneath his slicker, rain dripping off the back of his hat. His sweeping look over the town showed it had indeed, settled down for the night. There was a light on in the doctor's office. He wondered what Hannah was doing. Was she still tending to Kent? He'd seen the look on her face. In spite of her declaration to the contrary, she was indeed devoted to the now stricken deputy. Was she getting ready for bed? Had she let her hair free from its pins and allowed it to hang down her back? Was she brushing the sun-streaked crown until it shown like the moonlight? Did she hum to herself as she went through her nightly routine? She hummed when she was happy. He'd heard her hum quite often; both in the sheriff's office and when they had picnicked together. It was a soothing sound; homey, and he liked hearing her hum, knowing she was happy.

Jess felt an aching in his middle. He'd ridden out of town to be alone and think yet found it ironic when he realized he was lonely. He had liked Statesville. It was a place he could belong. However, he realized he had no one to belong to. He was alone – no family, no love interest and no friends. Being comfortable in the town wasn't enough – he needed family – someone to belong to and be part of. It seemed like a lifetime ago when he'd been stranded in a snowstorm and sought refuge in a farmer's barn. In that now far away town, for a moment in time, he had known what it was like to be part of a family. He'd not only been accepted by the townspeople, but the sheriff had taken him "under his wing" and taught him about the law. He'd liked being on the right side of the law; it felt right to protect the innocent. He'd been good at it too; considered settling down and continuing to work as the town's Deputy.

But like everything else in his life, the time had come to move on. Fate had landed him here in Statesville, longing for stability yet finding nothing but an empty loneliness. Oh, how he wanted that old feeling back. He wanted to be a part of something – something bigger than himself. He wanted the acceptance he had found in that other town. He wondered what it felt like to love someone – truly love someone so much his heart would hurt and he'd do anything to please the object of his affection – including settling down and staying in one place longer than a few weeks or months. It was obvious that this love was not Hannah. Although he had enjoyed their time together and the few kisses they had shared, after the initial shock, it hadn't hurt when he'd seen how much Hannah's love shone through in Kent's time of need. No, he would not be settling down with Hannah.

He'd always avoided any discussion in that regard. He told everyone he was only afraid of two things – the love of a good woman and being left afoot. Well, he'd been left afoot plenty of times and had survived. But the love of a good woman was something he'd never experienced and the very thought frightened him considerably. He didn't know how he'd cope with something like that – to be loved for himself instead of used as a pawn in some twisted scheme. The memory of Laura DeWitt burned in his mind. He'd been young and foolish and had fallen for her charms. He'd thought she loved him and he had loved her. At least he thought he did, but he wasn't sure. Part of him still ached for her, yet his head argued how she had used him and tossed him aside. He'd lost a great job because of his dalliance with her; run off the ranch for messing with the boss' wife.

He didn't know what it was like to be devoted to another human being, nor have them devoted to him. He wondered what it was like to have a partner to share his thoughts and dreams with; to build a future together. His time with Hannah had eased the loneliness, but she was not for him. No matter how much she had sought out his companionship, he knew her life belonged with Kent. Sighing, he decided it just wasn't within him to form any lasting relationships.

Absentmindedly, his hand ran over the gun sitting on his thigh. It was both the problem and the solution. It was a problem because it was a part of him and his reputation. No matter how far he rode and how long he stayed on the right side of the law, one of two things would happen. Either an old WANTED poster showed up and made his life miserable until it got straightened out, or there was someone who recognized him; someone who felt the need to challenge him to see who was better. He'd never sought his fast gun reputation – it was just something he was good at. He had learned not to expect a long life. The gun, and thus his reputation would be the cause of his death. Once he'd gained the reputation as a fast gun, his fate was set; there was no walking away. Like his former friends, he was already a dead man – it was just a matter of time. He wished the solution was as easy as giving up the gun. Unfortunately, it was too much a part of him; his entire being defined by the gun he carried. Giving up the gun was no solution because there would always be someone who would push until his temper flared and the only solution was a show down – or a bullet in the back. Either way, he was still a dead man walking. Jess shuddered as a chill ran down his spine

CHAPTER 14 – GUNMEN ARRIVE

Jess prowled his hotel room, debating whether to pack up his things and leave or stay; knowing there would be no life with Hannah. He was still pacing his room when he suddenly went still. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he turned and rushed to the window overlooking the main street. It only took a glance to realize the reason for his instincts to give warning. He'd honed those instincts over the years and they had saved his life more than once. It was his past coming back to haunt him. Below him, on the dusty street was the reason for his sixth sense warning. He didn't know the man's name, but there was no mistaking the invisible aura which surrounded him.

He wasn't so much a tall man in the saddle; nothing that would cause someone to look twice. But it was the attitude he projected, even without looking, you felt it. He was strong and confident with cold eyes that would make you look away if you dared to meet him directly. The way he rode his horse down main street projected his expectation that his every whim would be fulfilled and obeyed without question.

Jess had seen men like him before. He was cut from the same cloth - a gunslinger. Someone who killed for pay or pleasure, revenge, or merely to earn the right to the reputation as the fastest gun. Jess figured the man was in Statesville because of himself. Word had traveled swiftly that Jess Harper was in town – and was injured. Jess didn't have to had heard the rumors, he'd been subject to them before and had even followed the allure of them, hoping to cash in on another man's reputation and weakness.

Somewhere, out there, a bullet was waiting for him. He knew the day would come when someone else would be faster or he was just a little bit slower. Either way, it was obvious that he was already a dead man. And that was it, the reason he couldn't be with anyone.

There could be no family happiness for him because death would always be lurking around the corner, threatening to snatch him away in an instant. It could come today, or tomorrow or the day after. He wouldn't leave behind a grieving widow. How could he ask anyone to be his wife? Sandy had said that, come spring, there was a job for him if he wanted it. But that was months away and he wasn't a ranch hand; maybe never would be. There was no way to leave his reputation behind. He'd tried. He'd seriously tried, but his hot temper, quick fists and quicker gun would end whatever respite he'd carved out away from the gun fighter's life. He shook his head sadly. Whomever had just ridden in might be the one – the one that ended everything for him. He sighed, a long-drawn-out sigh. Sooner or later, he was going to have to face the man with no name. It was his destiny.

He knew he'd been foolish to contemplate staying in one place. It had happened time and time again. He'd think he'd found the right place but then his past would find him and it would be time to move on. He could imagine no other life. His feet had been set upon the path to self-destruction and the day would come when he would pay for it.

He shook his head sadly. Peace would never be his and he knew it. There would only be this – this always looking over his shoulder even though he was no longer a wanted man. If the law didn't want him, then another gunslinger did. It was a curse that followed him for finding what he was good at – handling a gun. Once he'd dealt with the current adversary, it would be time to move on again. Judson would never let him stay if he got into a gunfight. And it was going to happen. Trouble was his life and the day would come when there would be the fight he couldn't avoid.

He rubbed his left shoulder absently. It still ached every so often. His ribs were still healing but he wouldn't let that slow him down. It was the reason he had practiced; worked through the body pain in order to stay as swift as he'd always been. If he'd allowed his injuries to weaken him, he'd be a dead man by sunset; his final resting place being the local boot hill. There would be no church cemetery for him or his kind.

He knew his mother would be disappointed in what he had become. She had taught him the ten commandments and he had pretty much broken most of them. She hadn't raised him to be a gunfighter. She would expect more from him. He remembered how kind and gentle she had been. He had never doubted how much she loved him. Perhaps that's why it hurt so bad when she and his siblings had been taken from him. He'd not gotten the chance to say goodbye. One day they were a family and the next they weren't. There wasn't even anything to bury. No marker to show his family had existed and no grave to vent his grief over. His home and family were gone in one night of devastation which had marked him forever. He justified his actions because he'd been seeking revenge on behalf of his family.

But that didn't excuse the laws he had outright broken before leaving the outlaw lifestyle. That was another reason he couldn't stay and be with anyone. If he died here in Statesville, Hannah might be at his graveside, as would Judson; but that would be all the mourners he could hope to have. He was worse than a nobody – he was a gunslinger – and gunslingers had no friends.

CHAPTER 15– THE SHOOTOUT

Jess stood frozen as gun smoke filled the street and the echoes of gun shots faded into memory. He looked down at the gun in his hand, disgusted with himself. It had happened again. Once more, a young punk had braced him. Once more he had tried to avoid the fight but ended up defending himself. Sheriff Judson stood off to the side, sadness showing upon his aged face. He had liked the young man but now there was no chance for him to find a new life here in Statesville. Word had gotten out that Jess Harper resided here and the gunfighters had flocked to the tiny town intent on adding to their own reputations – or die trying.

Sadly, Jess holstered his gun before striding over to the hotel, disappearing behind the massive doors. It wasn't until he'd reached the relative safety of his room that he felt the burning sensation along his ribs. Gingerly unbuttoning his shirt, he surveyed the damage caused by his opponent's bullet. He stuffed a towel against his ribcage before re-buttoning his shirt and covered the spreading stain with his vest. He returned to the street only minutes later, saddlebags, bedroll and rifle in hand. Sheriff Judson stood beside him as he tied his belongings behind the saddle and slid the rifle into its boot.

"I'm sorry, Jess." He began, resting a companionable hand on Jess' shoulder.

Jess turned to the sheriff and extended his hand, his arm pressed against his ribs to hold the towel in place. "It was good while it lasted, Sheriff. Guess we both know what I gotta do." Turning he hopped into his stirrup and mounted. Looking down at Judson he said. "Tell Hannah . . . Tell Hannah . . ." but he couldn't finish the sentence.

Judson nodded. He sadly patted Jess' knee. "I'll tell her, son. She'll understand." He said looking up at Jess sorrowfully. "She's been through an awful lot. Kent will take care of her. But I was hoping it wouldn't come to this – that you'd be able to settle down here. Maybe it is better for everyone this way."

Jess could only nod in agreement. His way of life left no room for a wife. It had just been wistful thinking; wishing for a way of life that just wasn't his to have. He'd always been afraid of the love of a good woman- had said so many times. But Hannah had seen something different in him, and her love softened his rough edges, even though in the end, she had chosen Kent. She'd seen through Jess' mask, his pretending to be a devil-may-care, jovial wastrel while in reality he bore the deep scars of multiple betrayals, creating his deep distrust of the world in general. For a little while he had felt like a man instead of a gun fighter, when he'd been trusted, respected, and welcomed into the community. He'd looked forward to a home and family, a wife who was soft and warm and made the sun shine when she smiled at him; accepted him for who he was. And in an instant, it had all been gone, destroyed by another gunfighter that just wouldn't let him walk away, who had to prove to themselves who was better. Jess knew that this time it had been the challenger who had fallen, but his own date with death was already on the horizon. The slowly spreading stain on his shirt was proof of that. Jess was glad Judson hadn't noticed his holding his ribcage nor the hard set to his face.

Judson looked around the town, sighed regretfully, and then looked back at Jess.

"They'll be after you, you know." He didn't have to tell Jess who would be after him. He already knew it was his reputation which had brought the gunslingers to Statesville. "Wherever you go, whatever you do, if things don't change, they'll always hound you to prove who the best is. There'll be no peace for you – ever. Go away, Jess. Go far away. Change your name if you have to. But get as far away as you can and leave this life behind you. You're a good man, you deserve a better life. Try Wyoming, Jess. It's a developing territory. It's big and a man can get lost in its open spaces. He can also make himself a good living ranching."

Jess nodded in recognition of the Sheriff's statement. Turning Traveler, he cantered away until the streets of Statesville were out of sight. Only then did he allow Traveler to slow to a walk and he acknowledged the pain screaming through his body. He rode hunched over the saddle until the sun began to set and he figured he had put enough distance between himself and Statesville. At least no one would be chasing him – but he still needed and wanted the distance for his own safety. It was the same old story of his life playing out again; the names and faces and places changed, but the outcome was the same – someone called him out; someone lived and someone died and someone rode away from a town where they were no longer welcome.

Finally, he could stop, make camp, and tend to his wound properly. As he bandaged his ribs, his past haunted him. So much had happened in so little of a time, yet here he was, forced to ride away again. His heart ached to return to Statesville yet knew that could never happen. Just as Judson had said - he'd never find any peace there. He could never give Hannah or anyone else the home they deserved because the gunfighters would never stop coming.

Sadly, he looked to the north, its vastness stretching out before him. Maybe he'd take Judson's advice and try Wyoming. No one knew him there. Maybe his reputation wouldn't follow him and he could start the new life he wanted, no, craved. Because, God knows, if something in his life didn't change, he was already a dead man.

THE END